Sometimes, I really like to screw with my kids’ heads.
It alleviates the boredom and provides me with hilarious, and cheap, entertainment. I do like a bit of “That’s because I love him more than you“. I need to break it up a bit, sometimes, though.
Our two dead fish had been successfully removed from their tank some days ago. The afternoon of the morning of their demise. Godzilla attended to it. Because he’s nice like that. However, no one has got around to doing anyting about their former place of residence. The tank resides, on the bench, full of water and pretty stones and aquatic plants, and devoid of fishy life.
Monkey Boy was yabbering on about something, so in a bid to distract him, I pointed at the tank and said “Did you see the invisible fish I bought today?”
It deterred him for about a second. Unfortunately, Godzilla overheard me and spent the next 20 minutes trying to find them, ask me where they are, how many I bought and why I didn’t also purchase a gold fish when I bought the invisible fish.
I make “dinner” – beef pastizzi, which I passed off as “special pies” – and salad. Where one of Monkey Boy’s hair ties ended up half way through making it. Given I had made it from scratch and had retrieved the bowl from a cupboard, I had no idea how it got there, nor how long it had been in there.
Sadly, my kids are too bright and informed me pastizzi are a starter or for when they’re still hungry after dinner. Fuckers. They asked me what was for dinner as they were stuffing their faces.
Godzilla went back to staring into the fish tank.