What with Grumpy taking Chippie to swimming lessons this morning, where I got a phone call or two out of the way, and then Grumpy leaving Chippie home alone with me for the afternoon, where I was haggled and hassled until I went and watched the same DVD of Thomas the Tank Engine loop at least three times with him, I got to 3.00p.m. feeling as though I hadn’t got much done.
I looked down and did see some ticks on my list, so not all bad. Although, I did hope they weren’t the kind of ticks that cause paralysis, because that wouldn’t be much fun at all.
I collected the kids from school, where Chippie crawled into his pram, said “I a cat, meow” and fell asleep. I almost toppled him out at the railway underpass, due to his curled up sleeping position.
We arrived home approximately 40 minutes before we had to leave for swimming lessons, during which time Chippie woke and was beyond revolting-tantrummy and Monkey Boy turned into one of those revolting, surly pre-teens. Godzilla was in his room … not getting ready for swimming as it turns out.
I had given him the ten minute warning, then went in after ten minutes, where he was still fucking about with his iPod, and yelled at him. Five minutes later, he’s lying on his bed, half naked.
I enter his room and take his iPod away … he wasn’t playing with it, and it wasn’t so much a “you’ll lose that if you don’t get dressed” but that it’s very presence in the room was a clear distraction. If he couldn’t faff with it, he’d just lie there, naked, and look at it.
“I was trying to put my bather on!” he yells at me.
Which was interesting, given he was in the middle of his bed, naked, his tracksuit pants he’d just removed tossed to the other side of the room and his bathers in the swimming bag at the other end of the house!”
“Bullshit,” I muttered.
We make it out the door, to their new level swimming lessons, only to discover the times had been mucked up and they were the reverse of what we were told they were. Which was the reverse of last week. And then my brain exploded.