Oh, Crap


“What do you want that for?” Tracey asked me.

We were in Typo at the DFO in Melbourne and I’d just found a stamp I liked.

“It speaks to me,” I told her.

“You’ll never use it,” said Tracey. “It’ll sit in a draw and never get used.”

Well, I’m sorta kinda pleased to say she was wrong.

“Dad!” came the call from the lounge room. It was Master10. I’d heard him yelling out for his mum for a bit and it seems he’d finally realized she was out shopping. Worst luck. “Dad! You better get in here!”

“How about you come to me once in a while!” I called back as I walked through the house. “Why do I always need to b-oh, crap,” I said. It was very appropriate.

Miss5 and Miss3 had found my stamp and put it to use on each other.

Turns out it was a good quality ink too, because a bath didn’t do much in terms of removing their brandings. Which meant it was potentially going to be awkward for me when Tracey arrived home. You know, same same.

Sure enough, when eagle-eyed Tracey came in the door she spotted the red marks on her girls almost immediately. Actually, there was no almost involved.

Her mouth opened to admonish me but for once I beat her to the punch.

“And you said it’d never get used,” I reminded her.




 ~ raising a family on little more than laughs ~


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