Chippie was just gorgeous yesterday morning, until Grumpy Pants left for work and we walked in the door.
I can’t help but wonder if there’s some kind of trigger that sets everyone off? Oh, looky, we’re indoors and out of the public eye, lets all go nuts.
So, Chippie went on some kind of Banging Head on Floor Tanty, whilst I ignored it. Unless, of course, you consider video taping it “not ignoring”. I was hoping for some really good footage where he walked into a wall and fell over whilst he was wandering around screaming, or that thing where he stops when you leave the room, the comes racing up and when he sees you he throws himself to the floor and starts all over again when he has a captive audience.
Sadly, he refused to even cooperate on that respect. I do have some good tanty on video happening though.
He was meh for the rest of the day. I could take him or leave him.
Again, this morning, he was beautiful; cute, cuddly, chatty and I decided I would keep him for bit longer. Until we had to leave to go get niece’s birthday pressie that I hadn’t managed to get on Friday, what with the PTSD (Post Tantrum Stress Disorder) I was suffering. And the fact that she wanted a book that no one sold.
I spend much time requesting, cajoling, and yelling at Godzilla to put his shoes on. Eventually, he hears me and does just that. Sometimes, I wonder about his hearing and if I should go get it checked out.
Off he started again, when we left the house. I think the sky was the wrong shade of blue. We made it up the street, found the book (on sale! Woo) and head off to large department store to add a few fun things to the pressie. I located some singlets that I like to wear as jarmies, also on sale, and mentioned to hubby to help me locate the size I needed. As is usual, and I am familiar with, the singlets hang in a very long and very narrow manner, and looks as though they may be better suited for wearing by an 8 foot long plank of wood.
When I put them on, even the size larger than I usually wear, the kind of go squarish, and wider than they are long, rather than the way they are displayed. Still, they are most comfortable to sleep in.
“That won’t fit you,” he mentions to me, in a tone that refers quite considerably to my largeness of breast and belly, and with actions that indicate be his a big fat arsehead that requires much in the way of tact and saying nice things to his wife if he ever wants sex again. Or to even look at her boobs.
“Fuck off!” I mouth to him, over the tops of the heads of the kids.
“Yeah, Fuck Off! Dad,” screams Godzilla.
Sometimes, I wonder about his hearing and if I should go get it checked out.
We wander through the underwear section, which is gross stupidity on my part, but I blame it on my idiot children, the eldest of which has decided running between the racks is a good idea, and reappears with a red mark on his forehead and the comment “I just banged my head on a rack.”
Yuh huh. “And if you keep doing it, I will bang your head on a rack. Now STOP!”
“Don’t buy her a bra!,” screams Godzila. “She doesn’t wear them!”
Like he would know. Besides, she is turning 15 and there is no way I’m buying her a bra, becuase she is turning 15, and although I am Somewhat Cool Aunt, because I have