And so the School Holidays of the Birthday continues, with another two this week.
Having lost my mind – okay, and a child – a few days ago, it had simply not occurred to me to purchase all the presents in one hit. Which would have been the sensible thing to do.
Although, again, it gave us something, some sort of Get Out Of The House Activity, as three kids and I set off again for local, oversized shopping centre.
I also had to obtain a heap of postage satchels for a Sale! going on over on Real Mums, so we walk the length of the shopping centre, obtain the postage and work our way back, popping into shops and purchasing even more birthday presents.
It is along the way that I discover that Chippie has removed the postage items from my hands and has inadvertently dropped some of it somewhere. Something in the vicinity of $90 worth of postage – LOST!
I nearly cry as I do that thing where you stand and look in all directions, then walk one way, then back the other, the stop and say “Fuck it. Just. Fuck it!” and nearly cry again.
I thrust and item I had for purchase in my hands at Monkey Boy and say “Put that back!” and step out of the shop.
Pissed off, frustrated at the direction my day seems to be headed (we’d already has a smashed plate, blood, screaming and Grumpy Pants drank all the coffee – and we’d only just gone 10.00 a.m.) I storm back in the direction I’d last seen Chippie with the stuff, and see a Security Guard walking in our direction … and in his hands was my package of postage.
I almost cried again as I stopped him, simultaneously grabbing the receipt from my bag and rambling incoherently at him.
I tell him I could give him a big kiss.
He puts his hand up – clearly he’s been trained in defence – and says “No, no, it’s okay!”
I hug him anyway.
My teenager is mortified. My tweenager is oblivious. My littlest is a train.
I barely prevent the tears of relief as we walk back into the shop we’d left in some sort of crazed frenzy and purchase the item.
One down, one to go and we duck in, again, to Big W.
As we walk through the entrance, Chippie’s hand immediately slips into mine and hangs on tight.
I can feel the anxiety wafting from his little body.
We obtain that which we need and the older two walk on ahead to visit the toys ago.
Chippie’s grip tightens and looking straight ahead he asks “Where are my stinky brothers?”
“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “They’re just up there. See?”
He picks up his pace, dragging me along, approaching his brothers with considerable purpose.
“You don’t walk off like that, okay!” he tells them.
I am glad he learned from his experience.
Just like his older brother a week ago, it was an even that was likely to happen eventually, and it had to happen so he’d learn something from it.
Unlike (I think) his older brother, I think he