Sorry

As we left school yesterday I noticed The Youngest was chewing.

“Are you eating?”

She just smiled at me.

“You’re chewing, what are you eating?”

She chuckled a little, she may have chuckled more if her mouth hadn’t have been full. Her friend intervened at this point.

“She’s eating a carrot off the floor”

Of course she was. I’d seen the carrot on the floor, it was dry and a bit wrinkly, it was grim. Yet, Little Miss Hungry had seen it and thought

“Yum, I’ll have that”

I made her spit it out, little grot bag.

I’ve just made her lunch for today with a lovely fresh crunchy carrot in there. I know it’s a good ‘un because I’ve eaten some. Thing is, I feel bad. Why did I make her spit out her tasty treasure? She’d have already chewed the gravel and muck off of it then I made her give up the good bit.

Being a parent is hard, we have to make a lot of quick on the spot decisions.

Yesterday I got it wrong.

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Money Money Money

“If you had infinite money what would you buy?” asked The Eldest.

For a while I couldn’t think of anything. Nothing. Damn I’m boring. Eventually I plumped for a house with land, I’d like some land.

“Is that it?”

“Oh, I’d have a top of the range Range Rover, an all singing all dancing Range Rover . . . . . . and a live in chef”

I was getting the hang of it now but it was his turn.

“I’d have a new graphics card and an HTC Vive VR headset for £700. Then I’d give some to the poor”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh yeah, you didn’t think about the poor did you?!”

No. No I did not. I am a horrible human being.

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I Wouldn’t Want To Be Anywhere Else

Whenever we go away:

1) We buy supplies, chocolate and milkshake for the kids, food for the grownups. Oh and tea bags.

2) We find leaflets, lots of those touristy leaflets and we each pick a thing.

3) We are each allocated a day to do the thing we’ve picked.

4) We whine about the others choices.

5) We argue over the remaining days.

Day one. The Husband chose the seaside, that was a car wreck and we left in under an hour. The weather was shite and then The Youngest needed a shite. Public toilets are a no and she was doubled up so we left. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it, the truth will go with me to the grave.

Day two. The Youngest chose the Queens Palace or Sandringham as it is more commonly known. The Eldest had a broken nut, an injury gained that morning during a game of hide and seek, a dangerous game if ever there were one and we should have known better. He tried but couldn’t walk far so I ended up sat in the car with him whilst the other two went for a wander. The Youngest had a go on one of those trampolines with the bouncy ropes attatched, she loved it. Well it looked as though she did in the recording The Husband took because he knew I’d be pissed I missed it.

“I was acshally terrified” she giggled.

Day three. I chose Davenport’s Magic Kingdom. This was slightly less of a car wreck but only just. We travelled for an hour and a half to a warehouse. We’d gone too far to turn back so in we went. It was ok. Some magical history which was nice. A dead cat and a cheery fellow who talked us through a re-creation of the Davenport’s shop that once stood in London. He did a little magic and was very very funny. Then back into the magical exhibition where we waited for the star attraction. The latest magical Davenport. His long dead relatives must turn, nay spin, in their graves. Only just watchable because The Youngest went onto the stage to have a glass of water popped on her head. She thought the whole thing was “amazing” so I consider this day a win. Just.

Day four. The Eldest picked today as his day for us to do the thing he chose to do. Today is the day we stay in. Yes, that is correct, we are staying in. We are staying in because he’s a funny little chap and his idea of fun is being locked inside our holiday cottage, the four of us, pottering.

Day five. I try to hide the bodies.

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