Naked Truth

Sometimes, Monkey Boy is a fabulous big brother and gives his younger brother, Godzilla, some fabulous advice.

Like, this morning, once Godzilla had consumed his breakfast and was on his way up to the bedroom to get dressed for school.

“Don’t dance unless you’ve got pants on!” he yelled.

I like to think this is good advice, but, really, it was a warning.

Godzilla has a penchant for dancing on the bed, naked, every morning. It’s losing its appeal.

I also like to think it was “Don’t do it cos Mum will yell at you”. But it’s not. Monkey Boy is just sick of facing that particular activity each morning.

I don’t blame him.

Meanwhile, whilst this advice was being handed out, Chippie was lying on the couch. Naked. I’m not sure why. But he was.

He insisted I make his breakfast. Porridge. And yogurt. And milk. And no, I don’ kiss Mummy, no.

Then he insisted his red towel be placed on the chair so he may eat.

I am thankful I gave in to this particular demand, as whilst I was yelling at Godzilla to stop jumping on the bed and put some clothes on (“I’m NOT jumping, I’m dancing!”) Chippie was eating his breakfast like a cat.

Hrm. Well, I do tell him to lean over his bowl, I guess. Still, despite having his face in the bowl, I left for school a little frazzled, what with having to remove porridge from his face, body and scrotum.


You know you’re in for a good day when it kicks off with Scrotum Porridge Removal.

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