Well, I told you so…
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But we didn’t!! And so I still lived to collect my 19-year-old nephew Buster (Monty Buster’s name sake!) from the airport in the afternoon, and make a ginormous tuna pasta bake with creamy mushroom sauce. I also made a big mushroom soup whilst I was at it (cooking), which incidentally went down like a bag of shite down a slide…I learned this from initially the up turned noses and curled lips, ‘Errr, thank you mum, this looks lovely’ I prompt the kids, then the intermittent borks out of the corners of my beady ‘watching kids at chimpanzees' meal time party’ eyes. The ‘phew, I’ve finished’s and the ‘mum, I didn’t like it, and it didn’t smell nice either, but I did eat it anyway, and it was lovely’s (?) decide for me that I will not attempt to disguise their collective WORST vegetable in the world as a soup again, for a while…
Monty comments to me tonight how DOUBLE COOL it is to have Buster here, he has been counting down the days, and kept asking me all day whether it was time to go to the airport yet? He has had the biggest grin on his face since we picked him up! However at the table, after Lola says to Buster, ‘well, show us your muscles then, Buster’ He flexes, and they all go ‘hmmm, OK, but Daddy’s are up to here’ with enormous gestures of ginormous mountainous objects! So that wiped the smile off Buster’s face, and will definitely put a big one on Daddy’s when he gets home from work!
Thud! Tears and screams, and oh b*ll*cks, I sprint upstairs to find Esmie had been spinning around and around (still not asleep in bed then…) and fallen over decking her chin on the edge of the bed, hold on a minute, the ducks are quacking outside the front door, they obviously think it’s their dinner time. One stray chicken was out there too, she is not quite as phenomenally proportioned as the rest, and can still flap her own weight off the ground, with some success, as she can escape the confines of the pen Alex has just done them. CHICKEN PRISON *big smiley face* anyway, the chin decking spinny child incident, well, she’s arnicad up, and has a whacker of a bruise. Well, I told you so…!
See you tomorrow, It's my beautiful Esmie’s 3rd birthday…my baby is THREE!
Tamsyn x
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