Special lunch day at school, which, unfortunately, does not mean not making lunch.
It means ensuring a nice balance between Monkey Boy having enough to eat during the day, covering for the fact that he may not like the “special lunch” and not looking like an idiot in front of my grade 2 son. “It’s special lunch day, today, remember. Don’t you know anything?”
Send him off to get dressed (17 times) and turn around to make a sandwich. Discover finger marks in the butter and Godzilla standing, somewhat guiltily, in the corner of the kitchen.
“Have you been eating the butter again?”
“Yes you have. Look.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“Who was it then?” knowing full well the only person in the house who eats the marge out of the container using his fingers is Godzilla.
“Your ‘bruvver’ isn’t in here. He hasn’t been in here all morning. So, who did it?”
“Mine bruvver. He just sneaked in behind you and ate it.”
Please don’t tell me I have to start locking cupboards and fridges already. It thought I had till at least just before puberty hit before even worrying about that.