Nothing like being made to feel special

Attempt to reset washing machine by turning it off, removing the big item and replacing it with smaller items, and hopefully a less full and lighter load.

Still nothing.

In the meantime, Grumpy does the rounds of every closed or moronic washing machine repair-men (not being sexist, they just all happen to be men!) in the vicinity.

One, who appeared to have a vague idea of large household appliances promised to ring back.

Did school stuff, entertained Godzilla, who, it has just been brought to my attention, finished kinder yesterday, and is no longer required to go, and set off to do some more Christmas shopping.

Godzilla and Grumpy Pants in tow.

Apparently, my day was just not bad enough already.

Barely survived the trip, although did manage to pick up a few things, inlcuding a glamourous, diamente encrusted keyring in the letter “C” for the kinder teacher. Becuase her name begins with “C”, obviously.

Although, that was a 20 minute discussion with Godzilla, who wanted every letter but “C”.

“I fink she might like a ‘F'”.

And an hours repeatedly explaining to Grumpy Pants that kinder teachers always get bath stuff, chocolate or wine and they probably would like something different.

“How about this chocolate soap?”

“NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Ask Godzilla to write his name in the kinder teachers Christmas card, so off he went to play trains. I ask again, explaining it needs to be done before we leave.

“Quick, coz we need to leave soon for the party, and to see Santa.” Nothing like a good bit of bribery to get what you want.

“I’n playin’ trains. Look, I don’t have time to do your cards!”

Humph. “Well, I don’t have time to take you to see Santa.”

Cards completed, gather everyone, and set off for the kinder breakup at a local park. The whole kinder this time, not just Godzilla’s kinder group.

The Mums all uncork their bottles of wine and pour, whilst Godzilla hands his precious gift over to his teacher, who, being a fabulous kinder teacher, questions him about the gift.

“Why did you get me a ‘C’?”

“Um. Dere was no ‘J’s’ left!”

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