007.
Ah, Halloween. It never fails to impress. I believe I could draft council documents for misuse of magic claims in my sleep by now. It's the defense attorney's proverbial Christmas.

Which means you are about to be buried in filing work, Bess. Have your sorting and binding charms at the ready.

Last week my son was dead set on dressing himself in the likeness of the Youngest Brother along with an "invisibility" cloak. Now he wants a dragon costume which is entirely random from my perspective. Though I suspect that one of the children from his party had something to do with his mind being swayed.

Thank you to those who came. Terry is rather enjoying his new toys and his father is glad that it was the least eventful of his son's birthdays thus far. No crayons in the oven or cake icing on the ceiling this year. Prying him away from the new toys on Monday morning was the difficult part. Curse whoever gave him the toy broomstick.

Dad is going for a much deserved drink without paperwork and the fussy child refusing bed once the babysitter arrives.

[Malcolm]
You're not allowed to follow. I still hate you. Just so we're clear.