September 30th

Time to head back home. Had planned, again, for an early start – wanted to get home before the AFL grand final finshed and we were confronted by drunken idiots driving home after the game as we hit Melbourne.

Got off earlier than planned, as Monkey Boy woke at 5am, having thrown up last nights dinner. Why, oh why does this happen? He’s not the best of travellers at the best of times. I just won’t let him eat before we go.

“Mu-um, I’m really hungry”. So a piece of toast with just a scraping of butter and vegemite was the go. Didn’t want to risk anything worse.

Set off, got onto the highway, and, bler bler bler, vomit all over the shirt, pants, seat. None in any of the 17 bags I’d provided “just in case”. Tears and tantrums because I grabbed the only bag I could and shoved it under his heaving mouth. Apparently, it was the wrong bag – it contained napkins just in case he did throw up – and he refused to vomit into it, instead prefering to continue to throw up all over himself and whichever other parts of the car he could possibly hit with his projectiles.

Screamed to a halt on the side of the freeway, stripped him off, cleaned him and the car as best as possible, found the cleanest (on the outside) vomit bag for all the dirty clothes, pillows, stuffed animals, etc, popped them in and set it in the back of the car on top of all the other luggage.

That should be nicely fermenting by the time we return to Melbourne.

Only had another two similar, but not quite as spectacular, incidents. Not feeling well, he spent most of the time asleep or lolling about in the back.

This meant, obviously, that Godzilla was bored stupid. So he played with the windows, threw things, ate three packets of chips, stole the pack of lollies and ate them.

Then he reinvented “I Spy”. His version basically consisted of starting with “I spell wif my little eye, somefin giginiging wif …” then throwing out any combination of letters, numbers, or even entire words, then saying “yes” or “no” randomly at any word you threw back at him. Regardless of whether the word actually started with the letter he came up with in the first place.

Or the number.

Or even the word he provided.

For example, “I spell wif my little eye, somefim giginiging wif ‘signs'”

What the …?

Ok, um “sign post?” “Nooooo” “Um, sign?” “Nooooo” “Um, green sign?” “Noooooo” “Giraffe?”


Ahem, OK. Of course it is.

This went on for several hours, with it being Godzilla’s go every time, until he eventually fell asleep.

Ten minutes before we arrived home!

And, as standard for the Mummy in the house, checked emails (413, 403 of which were spam!!), checked phone messages, put kids in bath, Grumpy had a shower, washed vomit of clothes etc etc etc, eventually got around to having my own shower.

And it was f*cking cold!!!!!!

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