I've spent a few weeks looking for a birdhouse. I knew I'd seen one. Recently. Very recently. Where was it?
I racked my brains. I walked to the park. To town. To play dates. I looked in all the likely gardens on those familiar routes. No.
Birdhouse. Definitely seen one. Saw one today. How did I manage that and not take the wretched things photo?
Got a teeny bit obsessed. Started talking to myself about it. Yep. Mad.
But it was worth it, because Adam was listening. He pointed and said "there!", which is impressive, because he doesn't use that word very often. We were sat at home playing Duplo and he was pointing above my crafting desk. Sure enough, in all its balsa wood glory, was a little birdhouse. Adam had in it a kids crafting set earlier this year and I'd put it away because he wasn't really into painting things at that time. It's sat there ever since.
We gave it a few coats of gesso and Adam started painting it with his favourite metallic purple paint. It'll go and live in their playhouse when it arrives later this year.
At least I finally found it.