Godzilla’s birthday today.
He’s now 8.
My evil plan and fucking with his head on Thursday worked. On Wednesday we finally got around to organising his present. My “we”, I mean “me”. It’s not like I/we didn’t try two weeks ago, just the shop we went to was closed on the day we went, then we went away and then it was Easter. So Wednesday it was, and they so very awesomely organised it to be couriered so it would arrive Thursday. They’re closed on Friday.
So off I went to collect it, Grumpys credit card details in hand, paid for it and stuffed it in the boot of the car. Arrived home and said “Daddy didn’t pay for it, so I couldn’t bring it home.” His awesome logic merely suggested to me that I collect it Friday, but the shop is closed. So when he head a bath, I snuck it into the house and into the wardrobe. I could, perhaps, have lay it in the middle of the bed and he still woulnd’t have noticed, but its fun for me.
I heard him wake and readied myself with the video camera (well, a crappy version of that only lets me record for a minute at a time) and waited whilst he went for a wee. Then returned to his bed! What is wrong with him – he’s eight and it’s his birthday!?
Eventually he emerged and said “did you get me any birthday presents at all?” and found the awesome wrapping job I did and almost smiled.
For the record, electric guitars and inadequately practiced children do not fare well for mum. Just saying.
And, of course, some of yesterday’s phone calls had impacted on today’s proceedings. Which is how my mind nearly broke. Again.
We needed to shop: for tonight, for tomorrow and for sustaining the life and convenience of the family in general. The Overdue Grocery Shop, coupled with the Birthday Party Grocery Shop. With