Okay, I Get The Message

It seems we finally know how many people is too many people to fit into our bus-home. The number is nine. The place is starting to look like an unused set from Housos, and I think it’s starting to get on my good wife’s nerves.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence I’m currently perched on a stool at The Holy Bean Cafe down the road happily tapping into my laptop and wondering if it’s safe to go home yet.

The reason there’s so many of us is as a Christmas treat for the whole family, we’ve just flown in our oldest daughter, Miss22, and her totally gorgeous son, Izzy, from Perth. We organised it a little while ago but rather sensibly, it turned out, kept the news under our hat until the last minute – the kids were over the top excited. I could tell it was going to be cutthroat for the little man’s attention when I caught Miss10 was Googling on her phone ‘how to be the best auntie’. Of our kids she was always going to be the one to buckle in and do the research.

Fortunately, Izzy’s been generous with his hugs and giggles and they’ve each been on the receiving end.

Although a text exchange with Miss10, when Tracey sent me out to grab some groceries, does make me wonder what the hell page our number three daughter ended up on. It started sweet enough:

Miss10: Izziah is sooo cute

My parents used to joke that if they knew how much fun grandkids were they’d have skipped being parents altogether and gone straight there. They’re spot on too. All the giggles sloppy kisses and none of the tantrums during the night.

So I agree with the sentiment conveyed by Miss10’s sticky ‘o’ button.

But this assessment was followed by a gif which announced it was some sort of hand drawing before emerging, stroke by stroke, into this:

I stared at the image for a full ten seconds trying to work out what it was meant to be. I mean I knew what it looked like, but that just didn’t make sense. My kids don’t use hand signals to communicate. They certainly don’t use them to communicate with Tracey and myself.

Was it some sort of animal? A chapel on a craggy hill? Conjoined twins wearing a cowboy hat?

When nothing overly convincing came to me, I had to ask the question.

Me: Did you just flip me the bird?

Miss10: Haha I gave Izziah a choice of gifs and he sent you this. Sooo adorable!

Me: What on earth!?

I was keen to ask her what the search term was she used to have that come up as an option, but before I could start typing another message appeared.

Miss10: Oh and I should say sorry.

Me: Yes, you should.

Miss10: Sorry.

Two sorries! I took that to mean she’d realised if she didn’t get on with making the right sort of noises now she risked communicating without a phone for the rest of the time Izzy was here.

Another message popped up almost immediately. It seemed to back up my theory.

Miss10: Mum says I have made a terrible mistake. Can you delete texts?

As always, Tracey had my back. Clearly, she’d made Miss10 realise a line had been crossed and was at that moment tearing our daughter a new one – and don’t I know how that feels. Well, at least there was a lesson here about the permanence of what to you put out on the net which I could get some milage out of.

But naturally, I immediately put Miss10’s mind at ease. I wasn’t even vaguely upset.

Me: Don’t worry. You’re not in too much trouble lol

I added the lol to show I could see the funny side of our exchange. But just as I hit send, a new message popped up.

Miss10: I want to eliminate the ‘s’ word.

I checked back through the lines of text, instantly suspicious.

Me: Wait. The sorry???

Miss10: Yes. Mum says the bird can be from her and you deserve it and you’re not allowed home yet.

Still?!

I’m getting suspicious now. I suspect she just wants me out of the picture for a bit so she can win Izzy over with chocolate biscuits.

I mean, all I said was I wanted to treat her to having her hair recoloured because the regrowth was reminding me of Shazza.

You try to do something nice.

He’s got my chins…in his hand
I have a very smackable face…apparently. Tracey concurs.

My ‘office’ – hardly a punishment. But then I hardly did anything wrong 😉 Right?

Raising a family on little more than laughs

– this post is not sponsored or gifted –

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