We walk to and from school. It takes approximately 25-30 minutes. Longer if we have to go via childcare to collect Chippie.
This gives me ample time to catch up on stuff with the kids. Useful stuff.
Gdozilla was cold. And complainy. Personally, I didn’t understand this when he had a perfectly good, and new, fleecy lined jacket, complete with hood, a polar fleece jumper and a woollen, lovingly knitted (not by me – just so we’re clear) scarf.
Or course, the jacket stuffed in his bag, and jumper and scarf scrunched up in a ball and held against the front of his short sleeved school polo top may have had something to do with it. I suggest he put the jumper and scarf on.
Meanwhile, I listen to “the only thing” Monkey Boy learnt at school today; that bags don’t like orange dominos … which I thought was fairly common knowledge, but what do I know … 😐 ?
Turn to Godzilla, due to his shoving his bag at my vagina, which I took to be a request to hold it for him, as he attempts to pull his right-sized jumper over the two-sizes-too-big, and unzipped jacket. Which was over the top of his scarf. I left him to it.
Monkey Boy launches into, despite my requests he doesn’t because I have no idea what he’s talking about and it hurts my head, a move-by-move recount of what happened at lunch time when they played Star Wars, using the names of all the characters that I have NO idea about.
This obviously reminds Godzilla to loudly proclaim “Look how many penises I have!” as he flaps the fringy bit on his scarf, which is hanging out the bottom of his jacket-under-his-jumper and covering his genitals. Well, technically, his trackies were doing a good job of that, but you know what I mean.
And then the “It’s my turn to do the password” conversation ensues as we approach childcare, collect a happy Chippie who commences screaming because he roared at some kid, who roared back. Chippie then insisted on climbing onto my back for the walk home, but was easily distracted by a low-ish fence on which he was able to walk.
Then jump off from conisderable height. Which is always just a little bit heart-wrenching for me. As I had his hand at the time, however, it was considerably more shoulder wrenching.
He and Monkey Boy then got into some running game, which concluded as we waited to cross at the lights, with Monkey Boy saying “NO!”, because he could, and in response to Chippie saying “say DES!” (yes) for some unfathomable reason.
Chippie waited until we had a reasonably sized collection of old Italian ladies, a young childless couple and a local business owner before he swung his entire arm around in a half circle, concluding with a fair smack to Monkey Boy’s face, because he said “no”.
I shall leave you to draw your own conclusions as to all the possible outcomes of that little scenario …