“Your son is giving a talk at school on Monday,” Tracey told me as I walked in the door and pecked her cheek. That it was the first thing out her mouth and she was grinning told me I should follow this up.
I opened just one eye and waited grumpily for it to focus. I do this one eye thing to trick my brain into thinking it’s not awake yet. Pretty sad when you’re well aware how dumb your own brain is.
My 8 yr old son wants to know at what age I’ll let him sleep with girls. It’s okay it’s not what you’re thinking. I know because at first I was thinking it too.
For the first time in about nine months we sat down to a meal with all seven of our kids. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am about this.
But it seems one other member of our little family is feeling a little overwhelmed.
“Where’s my coffee?” I muttered for the fifth or sixth time. The urgency in my voice was increasing, as was the sinking feeling in my gut. “Where’s my coffee?!”
I consider myself fairly well read. I usually have three books on the go at the same time (most often thriller, fantasy, whodunit), and just open whichever one suits my mood. But today I found myself lacking.
“I think we’ve got a tick in here,” Tracey called out from the bathroom. When I walked in she had her glasses off and was holding them out trying to use them to magnify the beast.
It wasn’t difficult to work out which of our brood was playing host to a parasite – Master8 was nearly in tears, quivering and making incoherent sounds. He screams at the sight of a needle, so this was his ‘holding it together’. It’s difficult to picture him storming beaches or base jumping. I like that about him.
For most people I meet, one of the first questions they ask me when they find out I have a blog is, ‘What’s a blog?’
Thinking Miss3 was into her shoes again, Tracey was surprised to find Master8 walking past her in her wedding heels.
A little box appeared on my computer screen at work yesterday. I’d received an email from Tracey. ‘Your son got his head caught in the bars of his bed.’
It’s been a roller coaster few days, but it looks like the end of the ride is in sight.
Kids don’t want their own rooms – parents want to separate the little blighters so they stop talking and go to bloody sleep!