There's some breaking news in the Howard household. No, it's not another baby. This news is less comforting and exciting and more alarming.
In a nutshell, Louie can now reach the fuse box.
And consequently, we now have yet another thing to add to an increasingly long list of things which need toddler-proofing.
I'm really struggling to keep up with the new dangers this boy insists on locating. He will literally be the death of me.
Who are those optimists who say it's fun when they start walking and getting bigger? They clearly don't have fuse boxes.
Not only can he now reach the box, but he's also quickly mastered the art of opening the plastic door and pulling the trip switches. And that was just on his first introduction to it.
Yes, the experts will tell you it's perfectly safe to touch a fuse box.
But as reassuring as that is, I'd still rather not chance my arm, or Louie's for that matter.
I wouldn't put it past this kid to become the first person in history to be electrocuted by one.
So, I'd rather he steer well clear of it, if not for any other reason than the financial considerations.
I'm not too keen on seeing him parading around the house, proudly brandishing random switches he's snapped away from the panel.
We discovered his new passion for fuse boxes by chance. He wasn't actually caught in the act, you see.
We'd just returned home from four hours spent feeding Louie's train addiction.
It was the annual Fareham & District Society of Model Engineers' Steam Weekend.
Exhausted, following a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon out and an extremely lively toddler, I made my way to the kitchen to make a cuppa.
Pulling open the fridge door to grab the milk, I found a non-functioning interior light.
Now, we all know that a fridge lightbulb never fails. Those things last about 1000 years, so I knew we had a problem on our hands.
With no heartening sounds coming from the fridge or freezer either, I began contemplating how much this chiller setback was going to cost me.
Just as I started questioning if we could perhaps live without a fridge, Kerrie then pointed out an unusually exposed fuse box, with the cover dangling below.
Three switches had been yanked down. I hurriedly yanked them up again, and to my relief, the fridge and light immediately came back to life.
With no witnesses to the incident itself, I quickly ruled out the dogs, a seven week old baby and any form of sabotage by the wife.
Louie meanwhile, watching on from a distance as we resolved the problem, looked ever so proud of his achievements.
Nanna may need new arms
Fences, body art and rain, and not necessarily in that order.
That's been the last seven days in the life of Lou and Len.
Starting with the former, I can confirm that we’ve moved on from popping balls back over the garden fence.
We’ve now taken to putting Louie over the rear boundary instead. He had an hour at the neighbours’ house last week and it was far easier lowering him over the fence than using the more conventional option of a front door.
Meanwhile, Nanna is continuing to set a dangerous precedent in the world of permanent skin markings. She’s just got herself a brand new tattoo.
The latest one is only her second inking to date, but both relate to her two grandchildren.
She now has Louie and Lennie’s dates of birth on her right arm, along with a small trace of their heartbeats from when they were in the womb.
I’m slightly tempted to have another 10 children just to see what she does.
She wouldn’t have enough arm or leg space for them all.
Lastly, and away from the tattoos, Lennie has finally experienced rain for the first time.
How often can you go 50 days in this country without seeing any precipitation?
In short, he was curious, but unfazed by it.