After last night’s extremely long night, Godzilla still manages to wake early and bounce around the house, singing.
I don’ t know how he does it.
It was short lived, however, as it was only moment later I heard the Dreaded Scream, the one where I used to think he’d been impaled on LEGO set adorning the stairs in the hall, whilst simultaneously being eaten by fire ants and having his leg saw off with a blunt instrument, but I now know is nothing even like that. Usually, the Dreaded Scream is because Monkey Boy has done something to him, like, oh, I don’t know, nearly look at him, perhaps. Or accidentally walk within 2 feet of him as he leaves the room.
Something terrible, anyway.
Anyhoo, there it is, the Dreaded Scream.
Followed by “STOP IT! I don’t like people farting on me!”
Fair call, too.
That trauma dealt with by ignoring it completely, I can now set about preparing lunch for our guests arriving in approximately 4 minutes.