Arising this morning, projecting a positive outlook on the world in general and my life in particular, despite the craziness of the antics last night, I was not in the least bit surprised that Godzilla would not get up out of bed, and when he did he was teary, and that Chippie had a meltdown over something so trivial – even less trivial than The Wrong Bowl, that I can’t even recall what it was.
Monkey Boy wandered out in some hyped up form and set about tormenting anyone and everything in his path.
I spoke to Chippie … “You’ve been up an hour and you haven’t had breakfast yet! Eat!”
“I’ve been up ten minutes,” Monkey Boy butts in, because the Universe revolves around him and I must have been including him in some way or another. “And I’ve managed to annoy you, annoy Chippie, destroy my palace and kidnap Chippie’s toys.”
Well, good to see someone on a roll this morning and working productively and successfully on their to do list.
I remember to make school lunches, for the second last time this year, and am only slightly concerned that I am forced to have a serious discussion with Monkey Boy about why I am not going to put raw dough (I’m not sure what sort of dough; biscuit? pie? tart?) into his lunchbox for his lunch today.
He’s not happy.
I don’t care.
I disperse them and take Chippie with me to overly large shopping mall, which is relatively quiet, and manage to tick a few more things off my list. One list is even complete and receives my special ‘done’ stamp before being disposed of appropriately.
Collect a parcel that was unable to be delivered yesterday and, whilst hanging out the washing, dispose of a headless rat I find resting beside the clothes line. I do debate leaving it for delegation to some other party, but given the predicted 40 degree Celcius heat and the fact the day is warming up already, I can’t imagine a well baked, decapitated rat is going to be much fun later on.
Monkey Boy rings to see if he can bring some friends home. I like these friends, so I say yes. But I don’t go and pick them up because it is hot and I will have to head off in the car a little later to get Godzilla. I don’t want to do it more times than I like.
Besides, they’d already told me they want a water fight, so … they had it all worked out.
They arrive a little later, hot, red and dripping sweat. I made them a Milo milkshake because … well, I suck at remembering to purchase milkshake stuff. Also, despite the recent shopping expedition I partook in, we appear to be out of a considerable amount of food, especially foods that appeal to a teenage boy and two teenage girls. So they heat up some tuna and cheese before drenching themselves in my front yard. Chippie included.
Not wanting to a) stop their fun and b) go through the hassle of getting four sopping wet kids into the car, I had words to all four of them and head off to collect Godzilla from school.
We’re a block away form home in the return journey when a call from “Home” comes through on my mobile. Godzilla answers and puts it on speaker for me.
“Chippie stood on a bee and it stung him,” comes the disembodied voice.