So, after yestrerday’s Let’s Make Mummy Feel Fat As Well As Useless scenario, I wallowed for a bit, did the walk to school, then hung around at home, avoiding they gymnastics-basketball-gymnastics-basketball craziness and secured another walking session.
Up the hill to collect Chippie, where I continue to feel useless.
Yes, am still only parent who has a child that screams and cries when we leave childcare, but not because he want’s to stay.
I still can’t work out exactly what it is that sets him off, or keeps him going. I do know that I touched his head as we walked out the door, and his hat shifted approximately half a millimetre and off he went.
Until we got home.
Where he cried some more because he wanted to get out of his pram, and then I let him, which started him again. Or more. Or louder. Or something.
The evening routine without brothers commenced, which had it’s ups and downs and Wine O’Clock couldn’t come quick enough, and then everyone arrived jsut as dinner was ready. How do they know??!
And we got to spend a bit of time lying on the couch watching some telly, whilst Chippie tried out some new kamikaze moves; these ones involving standing on my prostrate form and leaping towards my head, which was resting on Grumpy’s shoulder.
After several goes, he mastered standing on my right hip rather well, balancing himself before throwing himself forwards. I also mastered the art of preventing him from falling off the couch, protecting my boobs and avoiding him smashiing my glasses into my face, all with one arm.
I am good.
Until he started to get more ambitious and I got more scared and, trying to get up whilst he climbed all over me and Grumpy encouraged him, I tried to get him to stop.
“Where does he get this?” I ask. Which, really, I know is a stupid question as he is a) a child and b) a boy and just does crazy shit like this.
“He saw that add on TV the other day. You know that one about killer whales at theme parks?” Grumpy advises me.
“Yeah, and …? While we’re on the subject. What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.
“Well, you know how the people were riding on the whales? He saw that.”
I’m still lost …
“He’s just copying them,” he informs me with a cheeky grin.
Ah, I’ve got it now. More fat jokes. Hilarious. And I glare at him. Which was hard as I was also cringing as Chippie managed to slam his knee into my twat and land both hands on my boobs.
So I have to glare again.
Chippie, intuitive as he is, clearly picks up on this. This time, as he launches himself along my body, sits up and smacks Grumpy in the middle of the forehead.
Or … maybe I started it …