What? How?

Off to swimming again, remembering to pack some pants for Godzilla this week.

Supervise lesson whilst catching up on the lives of other Mums, and hop into the pool to play with the kids afterwards.

Kids all gather in the communal shower afterwards, as per normal, throwing an array of bathers and goggles at respective parents and guardians standing around supervising.

And at those who aren’t the respective parent or guardian or any of the children gathered in the communal shower.

Basically, anyone who walks past, or is even in the vicinity is a target.

Some people have no sense of humour.

Godzilla comes out informing all who will listen that his “jarmies are wet”.

“No” they all say. “They’re not called ‘jarmies’. They’re called ‘bathers'”

No, in fact. They were jarmies. He had them on under his bathers the entire time!

Got home and recalled that I was “requested” to make a cake – the birthday sort – for Monkey Boy to take to school tomorrow.

Figured cupcakes would be the go.

Godzilla insisted on “helping” but left, after I fed him a teaspoon full of cocoa because “I like to try that one”.

Its not my fault, he asked for it!

Discovered, once again, that my special electric cake mixer does not accommodate double mixes of anything, and that when you add cocoa to the double mix that does not fit, your house ends up covered in a fine layer of cocoa dust.

Battling with the excess semi-mixed cake mix and a too small, large glass bowl, when Godzilla returns, pants around his knees and “I got fluff in mine doodle.”

What the … How the heck do you manage to do that?

So I asked him.

“How did you get fluff in your doodle?”

(Literally, a huge amount of fluff under his foreskin – what????)

“Coz I just got fluff in my doodle.”

“Ah ha, well how did it get there?”

“Coz I just got fluff in my doodle.”

Right, forget that line of questioning, throw Godzilla in the bath with instructions to get the fluff out whilst I tried not to ponder on how he managed to get fluff in that particular cranny and go back to battling excessive cake mix.

Do the school pickup run, the unpack bags saga and drama, prepare dinner, bath kids, do readers and bedtime stories and kiss them goodnight.

“Coz, I dust put it dere by mineself, Mummy.”

Leave a Reply