After one really lovely day with a helpful, happy and gorgeous Monkey Boy (approximately 83 years ago) we’re back to what appears to be “normal”.
I preferred the other “normal”. The one that had the standard bouts of regular “pushing the boundaries” type behaviour and not fucking obnoxious revolting fuckery fucker type behaviour that can only be described as such.
A few words had over breakfast, thought we’d had it sorted and ended up in a 23 minute conversation – yes, the exact length of time it takes to walk to school – regarding the merits of wiping your youngest siblings snot on your just younger sibling.
You may note that it took the “exact length of time it takes to walk to school”. The reason for this is that he did it as we walked out the front door!
Yes, only moments (measured in microseconds) after promising me he will behave.
It’s ok. I handled it well. I handed him a tissue and made him not only wipe it off himself, but carry the snot covered tissue all the way to school.
Not a biggy, you may think. Except for the fact that Monkey Boy has a severe aversion to all things mildly gross. He won’t throw things in bins because they might be manky. Worse if he has to lift the lid of a bin.
A similar bin, which, I might add, I went out of my way to locate, after making him carry it all the way to school, and made him throw snot covered tissue into it.
I do know what makes them tick. And I plan to use it against them as much as possible.
Pick them up from school, smile plastered on face and pretending that all will be well. Of course, it’s not. One can dream though, can’t they. At least I went in with the correct attitude.
Make it home without anyone being seriously injured or me having a breakdown in the middle of the road (although, you may very well wish to define “breakdown” – others may consider it a breakdown of epic proportions – for me, increasingly “normal”) and am promptly handed a note which reads:
Dear parents, blah blah blah, feel like being lazy cows on the last day of school so letting the kids watch a movie, blah blah blah, prefer to be at the pub but stuck here with obnoxious little fuckers blah blah, so watching movie so we dont’ have to deal with them.
Movie is PG, please sign this note so some upstart bloody annoying parent doesn’t get all “thingy” and threaten to sue us becuase we let the kids watch a bloody movie (when we should be actually “teaching” them stuff) that’s not bloody “G” rated. Oooooooh.
We’re having wine. No, you can’t come, sign the damn note.
Or, that’s what I read, because I was so bloody angry and annoyed that I wanted the teachers to make him work hard and not have a bloody day off and let him watch a movie.
If he was at home, he’d be scrubbing toilets or locked in a cupboard or something that’s “not being allowed to watch movies”.
I did have a muttering under breath about stupid schools and no point in sending him if he’s not going to bloody learn any thing and do bloody school work on bloody school days.
Then realise if I don’t send him, then I’m stuck at home with him.
Hmmm. Tough call. But think at end of day, we’re both better off if he’s not here with me …