Unsure as to whether Chippie should go to day care or not, given his achievements of last night, the decision was taken out of my hands when his carer rang to say she was unwell.
Of course, he was in fine form and back to “normal”. Somedays, I prefer the vomit with the subdued kid that sits happily on your lap and doesn’t smack you in the head with a train, or scream at you for the food you aren’t making, than they well one who does this and more.
Pick up kids, including addition, from school and head off to swimming. The last few times I’ve done this I’ve had two kids, a notebook, my phone and no need to squish myself into bathers.
Additional kid a good swimmer, but only 5, and Chippie could go either way; he may be happy sitting and watching, or running laps around the pool, or he may want to go in.
I had a choice to make; neither option terribly appealing. My blazing headache I’d carried all day wasn’t helping either. It was get in the pool with two kids, or sit on the side, watching three in the pool, and potentially preventing the fourth from ending up in there as well.
Much mumbling as I tried to locate bathers at the bottom of swimming bag, now stuffed full of school clothes and what appeared to be 13 bucket’s worth of sand.
With the possible exception of two children screaming about bums and dicks in the confines of the accoustic-enhancing change rooms causing my hurty head to feel as though it may explode any moment, even the getting changed after swimming wasn’t as bad as I thought.
Usually, I get most bored standing around and listening to bum and penis discussion at high volumes that I do much yelling. Tonight, I only did