Something Beginning With..
by“I spy with my little eye something beginning with……S!” said Master8. The answer was shed, the doors of which were the only thing visible through the front windscreen. We hadn’t left yet.
The funner stuff. The dumber stuff. The stuff I stuff up.
“I spy with my little eye something beginning with……S!” said Master8. The answer was shed, the doors of which were the only thing visible through the front windscreen. We hadn’t left yet.
We’re always watching renovation and redecoration shows on the telly, and it seems the concept is rubbing off on some of the children. Well, on one of the children.
“She can spend the rest of the afternoon picking up the dog poo in the back yard,” said my friend’s husband. My friend had pictured a different sort of punishment, something more like weeding or doing the edges.
Drivers Licenses bring out the vain little person in all of us, don’t they?
People always assume, because I have so many kids, I’m good with tips and parenting advice. Nuh huh. The only thing seven kids proves is I have no rhythm.
The husband of a friend of mine is in a bit of a foul mood at the moment, because his new fishing rod is broken. Here’s what happened…
One of the things I love about small town living is communication: Chatting in shops, knowing neighbours & waving at people in cars. But when things go wrong…
I believe manners are the cornerstone of society. They’re simple and powerful. They open doors and they share the love, making people feel respected.
“But that’s what a girl’s wee wee is called,” Master8 assured me. “A vagina.”
I mean, on the one hand it’s nice we’re attempting to use the proper names for things now, but on the other hand….
My Fantasy Fathers Day starts with a: “Good afternoon! Happy Father’s Day!”
With my lovely wife away this afternoon shooting a wedding and not due home until around 8pm I was determined she should come home to children fed, bathed and in bed. My enthusiasm knows no sense.
“If you all get ready quickly I’ll give you some money for a hot chocolate at school,” I told my kids this morning by way of encouragement to get them moving. Mistake. Big mistake.
“You go pick up the pizzas,” Tracey told me. “It’ll cheer you up.” I doubted that. But I was wrong.
We were at a friend’s place for dinner tonight and we were looking through their baby albums and pics on their computer having a hearty laugh at their children’s expense when it suddenly occurred to me we couldn’t do this. It’s not that we don’t have any photos, it’s that we have too many.
Dear 18yr Old Me,
It’s been 28 years since you left school, so there’s a lot of murky water under the bridge….