Meeting His (slightly grosser) Match

Monkey Boy has high school orientation day tomorrow and I suspect he may be a little anxious about it.

At least, I’m hoping that’s what it is as he’s being a right little fucker and not very nice to anyone.

We’re also trying to get organised for dinner out, so whilst he has got himself showered and dressed, he has also set up a Star Wars LEGO base (or two) on the coffee table and is working his way through a war.

Chippie is being extremely nice and polite and asking if he may play, too. Please.

Monkey Boy is not letting him. I’m waiting for Chippie to lose the plot, but he is remaining polite and calm. I am impressed.

Monkey Boy has resorted to instilling some rules around whether Chippie may play or not.

“You can’t play because you’re not wearing red,” Monkey Boy tells him.

Which I am most grateful for, as I’ve been trying to get Chippie to put his socks on for the last ten minutes. The socks, quite coincidentally, had red stripes on them, and the request to put them on came quickly.

“See,” I said to Monkey Boy. “Now he’s got red on. So ner!”

“Ummm….,” says Monkey Boy, knowing he is coming close to pushing the boundaries.

“Well, he’s not wearing bright green!” he continues, pointing to a smidge of colour in his own socks.

Chippie, not yet attending pre-school, only has a basic knowledge of colours that extend to red, green, blue, yellow, purple etc.

He understands the word “green” but not how the word “bright” might apply to it.

He shoves a finger up his nose.

He pulls it out and extends it towards his older brother’s face.

“See!” he says. “Dat’s green. I can play now!”

Hmmm. I think he got him there.

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