Not sure if having guests around makes my kids more gross than usual, or if I just notice it more when there’s an audience.
“I pick my nose, Daddy!” Miss3 announced loudly and proudly while I was chatting to a lovely Gympie-ite who quite wonderfully was dropping over dinner to feed our family and make things a little easier while we sort through the initial dreadfulness of Tracey’s bowel chucking a tantrum and leaving the party early.
Now there’s a couple of ways to deal with this. Shrugging works. Usually I’d just laugh. But instead I had a brain flash where I saw people shaking their heads with pity our children don’t have their mother around at the moment because sadly her beautiful children were going feral under the supervision of their dad.
Pure nonsense, of course. Not only would this person probably not even mention the ‘incident’ or name it such, as anyone who reads this blog knows, our children have been delightfully feral for years.
So instead of chuckling or ignoring Miss3 I started to dig myself out of a hole which didn’t exist yet.
“Why?” I asked her in my bestest and fakest ‘surprised dad’ voice. I furrowed my brow and slowly shook my head in an exasperated manner. I even spread my hands in much the same way preachers invite their congregation to partake in the bread and wine on a Sunday. It was a big production. “Why would you do that?”
As soon as the question had slid off my lips I knew I’d made a mistake.
“Because it’s yummy and I’m hungry!” she shouted.
Now there’s a story someone can tell her friends.
On the bright side, clearly the gift of food had arrived just in the nick of time.
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”