After last night’s entertaining where our guests left at around 9.35pm – because we are both families of five and cannot keep our temper in check nor our eyes open past this time in the evening – with my apologising for my children teaching her children the rude versions of some well known nursery rhymes, we all had a rather big sleep in.
(Thanks bloody muchly, Andy bloody Griffiths)
I use the term “sleep in” very loosely, given I was awoken several times by thumping-up-hallway type noises and various bodies climbing in and out of, and jumping up and down on, my bed where I was attempting repose.
A rather lazy day that saw me back to working, Grumpy Pants washing the cars away from the house and the kids playing on various electronic devices.
We manage to get through the day, tired but behaving acceptably, when Monkey Boy decided to test the boundaries and be an obnoxious little twat.
It was over dinner that it came to a head and I was forced into the position of not just asking him to stop and rethink his behaviour but discuss it on a much greater level and respond to his incessant requests for … something. I switched off after the first 86 times he asked.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mumbled under my breath. But loudly, because when you mumble under your breath they don’t really get the full impact of your had-enoughedness. “Yes, well you