A standard morning of chaos, swimming lessons and a decent sleep by Chippie, whilst I set about doing 807 things whilst desperately pleading to all that would listen that he’d sleep long enough for me to complete several of them.
Grumpy came home for lunch, bringing nicely cooked food with him and making Chippie a cheese sandwich, which he mashed into the ground before eating.
The phone rings, I’m eating lunch and supervising Chippie who crawls over to the cat bowls, sandwich quarter in hand. He proceeds to soak his lunch in the cat water, complete with worm (at least, I think it was a worm), whilst I, very professionally and still on the phone, leap up, wedge phone between ear and shoulder, scream, grab Chippie under the arms and haul him away. Soggy sandwich still in hand.
I don’t cope well with soggy sandwiches at the best of times.
Still on phone, he rubs sanga into his hair and I’m asked “Are you ok? You sound like you’re about to vomit?”
Yeah. About to? Mutter something about disgusting children, hand him over to hubby, get off call and wonder if I can look in the Yellow Pages for a nice family to go live with.
No time as receive call from a friend asking me to collect her kids from school. No biggy, we’re walking, and, besides, that will add variety to the standard Walking Home From School Compulsory Complaining.
Thankfully receive a business call on way home, whihc distracted me quite nicely, Grumpy walking ahead with the kids, when Godzilla comes racing back to me, holding something out.
“Here, Mummy, you need these,” he informs me, as I look down to see a pad, of the sanitary kind, still in the wrapping, only fully opened and covered in dirt.
Now in my hands.
Glad someone is looking out for me.
(Then forced to surreptitiously ditch object without Godzilla witnessing so as not to upset him unnecessarily.)