Good afternoon/Bonjour/Hi/Hey/G’day, dearest blog,

18.00

The clanging of plates as they are placed on the table.

The clank of cutlery, counted out into 6 forks and 6 knives and one small knife and small fork.

The slapping down of two boards onto the table so that hot dishes can be placed on them.

The burble of sound from the radio. The high-pitched noise from an online game. Sounds from the tv in the playroom.

The steaming dishes of food are moved to the table and 

‘DINNER!!!!!!!!!!!’ is shouted.

Footsteps along the passageway; sock clad feet running from the playroom; the swish of too long jeans, sweeping along the floor all the dog fur, bits of food and plaster (yes, the kitchen is FINALLY being attacked. See blog 4 (possibly)). Chairs pulled out. The table wobbles as three little people, climb up into their chairs. 

The door creaks as it opens.

In walks the FAce after arriving home from the school bus.

‘I don’t think I’ll have dinner. I just did a poo that was so big I didnt’ think it was going to flush away.  It made the water level go REALLY high.’

I look at the Husband, who picks up his glass and takes a long, very long drink.  I look at the kids with sausages on their plate and hope ‘did they hear? Will that comment give them visuals that will put them off their dinner?’

I look at the Face, a serving spoon in my hand and say:

‘Hello Mum. Hello the Face. How was your day, Mum? Fine, thanks Face. How was your day, Face? ‘

He looked at me. Mentioned the size of his poo again and left the room.

The prodigal sniggers. His sniggering obviously caused a very slight problem with the wiring in his brain, as he then said:

‘Isn’t it me and the Face’s turn to do the kitchen?’

Immediately, he tried to take it back. But it was TOO late.

We ate our dinner, all the time wondering if the Monster in the downstairs toilet was slowly maneuvering (not sure that one is spelled right) it’s way out of the pipe, through the door, increasing in size and power………..

The prodigal reluctantly got the FAce who was distressed to find that a)we weren’t that interested in his poo story b)he hadn’t even had any dinner c)he had to clear up after those who had.

Fatty

‘sh-utttt UP! You shut up! Shut up, YOU!’

‘I hope that you aren’t telling ME to shut up?’

A sideways glance and the tiniest upturn of one corner of his mouth:

‘SHUT -UPPPPPPPPPPPP…………………………………’ a pause, I frown, he grins   ‘……….SPIDER!’

‘git’ I mumble. He silently marks down that word for use in the future.

 

The Prodigal

‘so if you die, me and the Face, don’t get anything?’

time check: 8.08 a.m.

Place: on narrow back roads, 10 mins into my 1 hour plus trip and two minutes before the alarm that I’m on my reserve amount of petrol starts sounding.

 

The Professor

As I wander into the kitchen at 7 a.m. this morning, bang into the oven, place the kettle on the stove and whilst waiting for it to start singing, I feel like I’m being watched and watched closely.

I turn around to be met with the RED laser of a nerf gun aimed right between my (unplucked) eyebrows.

‘I won’t shoot. I’ve been up since 6. I found Nerf War games on YouTube. I’ve been watching them for ages.’

I’m too tired to comprehend that he could have accidentally pulled up all sorts of horrors on Youtube. Could have been worse……hang on…it WILL be worse because just as soon as the Lips can spell, he WILL be pulling up all sorts of horrors on youtube and exhibiting them to his more sensitive and also younger brothers.

The Husband

Is off to Paris next week. Remember what happened last time? Be sure to log on to read about what happens when he comes back (IF…….. note – make sure he leaves the cheque book behind).

 

 

I shall leave you with this line from Sammy Davis jnr:

Alcohol gives you infinite patience for stupidity.

Au revoir, Blog.

 

 

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