Watching my boys, Harry, then four, and Darcy, one, chasing the kitten out from under my bed, I stifled a laugh.
They’re so cheeky, I thought.
Together with my hubby Matt, then 32, and daughter Grace, seven, we lived on a remote sheep farm in Narrikup, 400 kilometres south of Perth.
With Grace at school and Matt in town, the boys were up to their usual mischief.
‘Mummy, Mummy, come look at Darcy,’ Harry shouted.
What have the little ratbags done now? I laughed to myself.
But back in our bedroom, I saw
