dart & mouths

On a rare sunny day, my sis and I tramped along the river dart from Greenway, Agatha Christie's old haunt on the river (she set 'Dead Man's Folly' here, and there was a murder in the boathouse!) all the way to Dartmouth, with little man sleeping all the way. We wondered along the way whether our parents had intended us to have caught, so completely, the walking bug. Two weeks into my sis's stay, we had gone for long walks almost every day - as if it was only possible way to spend our time. I wonder if little man will catch this habit. So far, as long as there is milk, little man is happy.