‘Yep, here and present’
“Don’t people work hard in China, hey?’
‘Erm, yes, baby I guess they do, what makes you say that?’
‘Well, EVERYTHING is made in China’ Monty states matter of factly this morning. After reading labels in things, he has come to this conclusion…!
As for the rest of us, I had a night out last night! I went for a drink with a couple of girl friends for a few hours. An outdoor bar over looking the sea…I diet-coked it up, as I was driving, and it was lovely. Whilst I was out, Daddy is on night duties. Everyone is asleep, when I return, it is all quiet, Alex has even dozed off on the sofa. I make a cup of tea and grab some of the home made peanut butter cookies Grandma made with the kids just before she left. The peace is over, Monty descends, he has been bitten to **** by a Nazi-mozzy. He is covered on one arm and hand and wrist, and ITCHY! Alex rears his head, 'what’s up mate?', he asks Monty, 'well, you know that mozzy I told you about that kept waking me up and biting me and I couldn’t sleep because of it but you told me to stop thinking up more excuses and to be quiet and go to sleep?’ Alex did know, he was now feeling proper guilty, so he is prepares for action stations…he takes Monty up to bed formulating a plan, they see sight nor sound of the b*st*rd mozzy, so Alex comes back down.
Explaning to me that he felt proper guilty, Alex tells me why. He had got so fed up with the ‘last thisses’ 'last thatses’ from the small child brigade, that he finally put ‘firm’ voice on and Monty at that point took the brunt of it. We hear another mozzy alert shout from Monty’s room. Alex sprints up to his room, this is apparently (his words), ‘the only way I can make it up to him is by killing this mozzy, I have to go…’ and with that, he pelts up the stairs, me thinking the house is about to cave in under his Forest Gump efforts. He enters the room, and I hear an a giant fall down, humungous crash, something big crack, an ‘OWARRRRRGHH’, in fact a few of these, with the odd ‘FOR F***S SAKES’ added in for good measure. I, quite obviously, am wondering what the hell is going on.
‘GOT IT! YES!’ Woops let rip from Monty’s room, and Alex comes back down triumphant. I half expect him to be doing the Victory march, and blowing a horn… So I question him as to wtf went on up there, it transpires he had been so determined to get the mozzy, that he ran up the stairs, tripped on entry (the giant fall down, and humungous crash), he picks himself back up, whips off his towel (the big crack-oops, the 'noise' I hastily add!), as he whacks gaily away with his towel at Monty's bed. He’d had a bath before dozing off for a bit on the sofa, hence the dress, and flings it violently in mozzy direction. The towel flaps around hard, Alex whacking all kinds, he clobbers his head on the door (the ‘OWARRRRRGHH’), falls again in the over exertion (the FFS), to finally getting the moz. Result! Of course, this whole time he’d been wildly leaping around the room, completely starker’s (his towel being the weapon). Monty had just sat through 5 minutes of daddy leaping naked around his bedroom at midnight…So if a social worker meets my son, I shall bribe him to keep schtum about the 'Daddy dancing around, gaily flapping towels' incident...
|Daddy getting picked on, well 'clinging on with sheer delight eye-pokey' by a toddler. Still, at least he's fully clothed ;)|
The things that go on in this house.
We all got to the beach today, it was a lovely sunny afternoon and as we get to the beach, the clouds come over. Still, the kids dove about in shore breaking waves, Esmie even joined in the antics today, normally she is in my arms crying gas I approach the sea, as if she’s sure if I am about to give her her first swimming lesson-in the Ocean…So today was real progress. We picnic tead it (sandy tuna sandwhiches, lovely!!), kids were shattered when we get home, and it’s straight to bed-all is quiet at 8pm! Apart from the animals who I now have to see to…
Anyway, I am determined to get my kids on a bike ride, despite my events getting back on the bike at the request of my son to ‘race’ him. It’s pretty big, the bike, I mount it successfully enough, set off, and realise the seat is WAY to high down there. I cannot quite reach the pedals, wobble dramatically and yes, go a*se over t*t. Well, I didn’t win the race, I got a scabby knee though!! But I will try again, I SHALL get back on the bike.
|Me, in back in 2000, Ok, big fat lie, but I reckon I am about 5? here, I am doing my basketed bike well though!|
I just need to point out my enviable fashion sense (just you wait, you’ll all be dressed like it soon) in velour tracksuit and red Dorothy shoes and white socks, trousers tucked into them of course, you wouldn’t want your chain to get stuck on the trouser flaps…
See you all tomorrow,