Making Our Bed and Lying In It
byWe’ve been sort of caught in the act. Well I say, ‘kind of’. Tracey says, ‘near enough’. Miss14 says she’s gonna need therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.
The blog posts which probably mean more to us than you. Our day to day stuff which, one day, our kids will look back on and laugh at. Or use in court. Or talk about with their psychiatrists.
We’ve been sort of caught in the act. Well I say, ‘kind of’. Tracey says, ‘near enough’. Miss14 says she’s gonna need therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.
From gluttony to a glut, all in the space of a nice night out.
The results are in: wives are way effing cunning. Tracey, you will NEVER convince me you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. It’s on, you sexy, deceitful biatch.
Despite the mess, ultimately Tracey enjoyed this even more than the kids.
“I don’t need to take a lunchbox to school,” Miss6 explained to me. “I’m having tuck shop.” This was news to everyone except her.
“Let’s talk business, Dad,” Miss11 said to me while I sipped my coffee. “I’ve got a proposal for you.”
Tracey says this post could open the flood gates, but I think we can handel it.
Done it. The first traditional school day after eighteen months of homeschool. I don’t know about the kids but we’re friggin’ exhausted.
I blame Marvel.
Our youngest got a little introspective which resulted in our kitchen getting a little messed up.
Why on earth are we back in Gympie when we have a bus decked out with beds? Well, I’ll tell you…
The art of Hollaback is not dead. At least not in this family.
Phones and driving don’t mix. I know that. And yet today…
You ever put your family in a position which makes you question your ability to parent? Wish I could say ‘me either’.
I’m pretty sure Tracey thinks I usually manage to embarrass myself around other travelling families, but internally I’ve adopted the wonderful idea of myself being quirky….
Post includes a map of our journey so far.