Family Love on Mothers Day

Last night’s pre-bed discussions involved the older teenager advising his parents (i.e. the Grumpy One and I) that we are not to wake him before 11.00a.m.

Inevitably, subsequent discussion centred around who gets to dictate to whom around sleep-in-ability, and who gets to speak to whom in certain ways.

Just as inevitably, albeit after a decent sleep in, I was first up. If you discount Grumpy verticalising himself, and making his way down a flight of stairs to push a button that would start the coffee machine a-brewing.

(I’d already done the adding of water and coffee thing.)

I wasn’t left on my own for long, as the rest of the household, sans fifteen-year-old, remembered it was Mothers Day and got up, too. Two offspring immediately locked themselves in the family room, and proceeded to ignore everyone as they played some games on the Wii.

At some vague compromise, two hours after I had told the fifteen-year-old he had to be up, and two hours prior to the time he had explicitly stated he would be up, the Pubescent Creature emerged, grumbled a few things at everyone, and slunk into the family room, too.

Moments later, the littlest one, still years away from the insidious effects of The Puberty, thrust an upwrapped box at me. Clearly, this was done at the demands of the eldest, whom was unfit for Human Contact and any form of nicety.

The box contained the product I had looked up online, clicked the Buy Now

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