Seven

Seven is how old Mog will be in a couple of weeks time. And seven is how many weeks until the school holidays begin. And seven is how many years' difference there is between me and my little brother, and seven is, I think, how many months we need to wait before he and his lovely wife have their first child (G, forgive me if I've lost track of a few weeks there, it happens. Sorry!).

Seven is the number of dishes we ate our way through this evening, and seven is the number of ROSY Mums who were expected to come and eat them, although only six could make it.

And seven is the number I got to in this countdown before running out of wise things or even vaguely fostering-related things to talk about. But then if you've read this far, you probably already know that!

Tia