That's so cheesey … and very bad

A fairly uneventful day, with a friend popping over and much work done on our businesses.

It required much brain-thinking and functioning and plotting and planning and getting Chippie to sleep just as he has reached a “phase” where he prefers not to. Actually, truthfully, he’s never really been one for much sleep. This is just a new “thing” he’s trying on in relation to his afternoon sleep, just when I thought we had it all sorted that he’d happily go down just after an early lunch and sleep for hours.

How stupid am I?

Then off to pick up kids, do Parent-Teacher interviews, which I actually remembered this time, totally stressed out after one and chilled after the other, remembered to pick up additional Small Child that we were caring for after school today and head home.

Dinner on, Small Child collected early, and therefore no need to feed him as well. A good thing, really, as I recall the days when 500g of minced meet and a 500g packet of pasta (toss in a few additional ingredients, cook it up, voila, pasta bolognaise for something different) would happily feed all of us with a bit left over. Now, it feeds my two eldest sons and the rest of us have to scavenge the bits that fall out of their mouths as they’re shovelling it in.


Having had their 23 serves each, Chippie and I head off for a bath while they helped themselves to their 27th serve each, and I relax.

Thank goodness that uneventful, yet mentally draining day is over.

Despite my bath already being interrupted what with it consisting of a toddler, there was plenty of room for further interruption.

“MUM,” yells Monkey Boy after I hear a muffled thump. “There’s paremsan cheese in your laptop!”

Well, of course there is. Where else would it be. There was definitely no more room to put in on top of their pasta blognaise, which, technically was a bowl of parmesan cheese with a garnish of pasta bolognaise.

“I slipped on Chippie’s fork , which was on the floor. And I dropped the container.”

(Which, I might add, previously held approximately 3 litres of very finely grated paremesan cheese)

I had visions of cheese all over the floor, which could relatively easily and quickly be dealt with my letting my children loose with a spoon each and instructions to “clean it up”.

But how did it get in my lap top?

I was becoming more intrigued as Monkey Boy persisted with his pathological need to inform me as to the goings on of the parmesan cheese every 23 seconds; “It’s in the dictionary, like inside the pages!” and “I got a bit on your diary!” and “There’s some inside my communications book for school!”


“Yes, thank you, I don’t need a running commentary. Just clean it up!” and I hopped out of my bath to inspect the damage.

We have a large table. It had a lot of stuff on it a the time. All that largeness and lot of stuff was now covered, covered in parmesan cheese. It was not all over the floor. It was all over lots of things I really didn’t want it to be over.

Yes, there was a “bit” on my diary (looks like cheese is the order for the day)

We set about cleaning the mess up. Monkey

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