I had a little ramble over on the Real Mums Blog the other day, about a note that came home with the professional photos that were recently taken at childcare. Basically, it offered the opportunity to have the photos retouched to remove scratches and bruises and dirt and stuff.
Nothing major, just I like kids to be kids and to do kid type stuff, that I imagine involves things like getting snot and dirt and scratches and bruises on their face.
Bewilderingly, this became an issue, and a story was written up in the Melbourne Herald Sun about it, complete with a photo of a mud smeared, sand tossing Chippie and I.
(Yes, the one taken at 9.00a.m. last Sunday, and resulted in me with a face full of sand.)
The children all perused the paper over breakfast. Monkey Boy, being ever so delightfully tactful when it comes to compliments, pulls the page out, walks over to where I’m making lunches and shows me the picture and says “That smile looks fake, Mum.”
He follows it up with, “Hmm, maybe you could … what’s the word [glances down at article] … get it airbrushed so it looks better.”
So we shafted them off to school, and Chippie non-cooperated the whole way and we missed our morning coffee together before Grumpy Pants took him off to gymnastics.
Upon their return, I was advised, by Grumpy, that Chippie continued to refuse to cooperate and they left. Grumpy had also told Chippie that he would not be watching any movies today.
Being what I like to think as “co-parents” who present a united front as often as possible, Grumpy ensured I was well aware of this arrangement. Then he went off to work.
Basically, I had a grumpy, tired