After a somewhat throbby headachey and bad newsy, stressful day, I managed to wrangle myself a massage.
I even managed to come home to an empty house, put the dinner on and have a shower – uninterrupted! Well, except for the blue rubber ball, with the – courtesy of Gozilla – smiley face drawn on it, staring up at me from the bottom of the shower – courtesy of Chippie – where it has been resting for several days now. I was mixed; on the one hand it was a little unnerving, having a blue ball staring up my whatsit, but on the other hand, somewhat comforting. I’m unused to showering on my own. So it just helped to ease the weirdness.
Showered and pyjamaed, the troops arrive home. Godzilla bursts in, claiming starvation then informing me he didn’t do his swimming lesson because he “was sick”.
Hrm. Spritely, yet “too sick to do swimming lessons”, hey? I can fix this.
“Oh dear. Well, we’re having burittos but as you are “too sick” I don’t think its a good idea that you eat them.”
And more of the story emerges. He was fine at school, then sick at swimming, and now ok again. The bit of the story that didn’t emerge was the bit that goes “I, for some reason that I refuse to explain to you, didn’t want to/couldn’t do my swimming lessons, but I’m actually not sick. I’m just having you on.” etc etc blah blah
(I don’t know about you, but I abhor this behaviour in anyone)
He did try the tears, but when I’m seriously pissed off, that doesn’t work either. See, I can also do the “well, actually, you tricked me/lied/am trying to put one over me, so, therefore, you can miss out on dinner, cos I don’t like that behaviour”
So, it’s win-win, really. You’re sick, you can’t eat what we’re having, cos I don’t want you throwing up on the middle of the night. You misbehave, you miss out. Oh, but you can make yourself some Vegemite on toast; don’t want anything too rich that might make you spew. But you’re not going to get away with unacceptable behaviour.
Oh, except, of course, if you’re the one who was sick, then not, especially when you saw your favourite dinner. Then, it kinda sucks. Really sucks.
Still, given the way things have panned out this evening, I wouldn’t put it past the Grand Master Of All Things to have me up all night tonight (again, did that last night with the Chipster) with a vomitting Godzilla. Just to pay me back.
Although, I am hoping that my having pre-empted such a Being with this thought that it’ll now no longer happen.