Pick your timing

A typically crazy morning, needing to get out of the house by 8.30am to meet with a friend for some discount clothes shopping.

(Crazy discounts, proper factory outlet, wear comfy shoes!)

Then it’s back home to squeeze in some work, shower, dress nicely and head off for picnic with a bunch of people I haven’t met but am working with on a parenting program. Persuade kids to also dress somewhat appropriately. Which is always a hard ask and results in lots of “What the fuck are you wearing?” and “They’re your brothers shorts. Yes, they are. Yes. They are! Look, they only come to your mid thigh and they’re a size 4!” and various similar discussions.

Picnic lunch prepared, Chippie still asleep where we are leaving him till the last possible moment so he is not tired and grumpy and clingy and whingy all afternoon, tell Godzilla to go put his shoes on. Off he goes, walkes out our bedroom door and promptly slips on the floorboards in his besocked feet.

BANG!i

Followed by a very loud scream, and, immediately thereafter, an equally very loud scream from Chippie in his cot. Nice wakeup for him.

I race out to find Godzilla face down on the floor, hands over his face, screaming. Still loving the dramatics, its very hard to get him to explain anyting, and to determine whether the type and pitch of scream is “real” or just him loving the dramatics.

It was a very loud scream.

I ask if he landed on his face, was rewareded with a nod and a “Ye-es”, had mild panic as I consoled him by running his back, far to frightened to lift his head up or flip him over.

I really didn’t want to know what was on the other side.

Thankfully, once I’d talked myself into it, I was rewarded by a significant lack of blood pouring from any orifice, having pictured nose bleeds, teeth through lips or missing teeth. Phew! None of that in site.

A good thing really, as we’re already cutting it fine to be

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