Not that sort of tired

Godzilla back at kinder, feeling much better, I finally got my legs waxed and the day was pretty much normal.

(read: complete schmozzle – mad rush to get lunches done, no one getting dressed when asked, and then getting upset when they have to walk to school naked)

Movie night after school, complete with fish and chips, then the bedtime ritual.

“go to bed” “I’m not tired” repeat 963 times or until someone, anyone, throws themselves on the floor, kicking and screaming.

This time it was Monkey Boy – “Mate, look at the bags under your eyes.”

He reaches up, rubs them, stifles a yawn and declares “I’m not tired, you know. Maybe I’m just tired of you!”

(Yeah, well I’m gonna let you stay up for that one, aren’t I??)

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