Monkey Boy and Grumpy Pants negotiated a deal (I wish the wouldn’t) regarding the inability to put much desired Lego set on layby yesterday.
Monkey Boy counted up all his birthday and Christmas funds and calculated the amount of pocket money we owe him (11 weeks, really must have words to the accounts department who, it seems consists of the same people who draw on walls, spill food on the floor and leave mess everywhere … ie “Not me”) and he’s $10 short. Grumpy agreed to put in the extra $10 but he then becomes the layby department and Monkey Boy cannot have the item until he has paid off the remaining $10 to Grumpy.
After many attempts to drag me into it (“But I should be able to have half of it to play with if I’ve paid most of it” and “No, he can’t bloody have it till then, erm, because … um, I said so”) I commenced banging of head against wall and told them to piss off and sort it out themselves and I don’t want to know about it.
Except that I walked up the street with them to purchase said product, spending the entire trip telling Monkey Boy not to get his hopes up, just in case there was none left.
There weren’t and he was most upset and again I endured the “stupid people” and “I hate everyone” ramblings. We passed another toy shop where he found another set he really wanted and was cheaper still than the non-gotten set. The lovely shop owner took a few dollars off for him, too, which was nice.
And the entire journey home consisted of Monkey Boy talking excitedly at me, non-stop, rambling and gibbering. I verged on ripping the set open so I could retreive the Lego Lightsabres contained in the box to gouge my eardrums out.
I’m not sure which is worse; the sad and depressed inane chat, or the happy and excited one.
Used an empty takeaway latte cup, one of Chippie’s too small socks