My Killer Outfit
byIt would seem I am unsuitable for living life on the road.
It would seem I am unsuitable for living life on the road.
We have a problem and her codename is Puddleduck.
“Seven times!” Tracey exclaimed all hands on hips and frowny today when I arrived home. Clearly I’d stuffed up. A lot.
“You can’t go in there,” Tracey told me, explaining our son was in the bath. I had no idea why she thought this might be a problem.
Having cats in the house is increasing my stress to new, hitherto unseen levels.
Tracey had set Miss3 up in front of the tellysitter so she could get some housework done. Dora was on. As usual.
“Does cat pee kill grass?” my father asked my mother this week.
Recent bouts of sickness have meant late nights and so much interrupted sleep it could probably better be described as a series of naps, but now the bugs and snotty noses have cleared up, Tracey decided to take the four older kids out of the house while Miss2 was in daycare.
“Toily! Toily! Toily!” screamed our three year old, just inches from her older brother’s sleeping head…
Miss2 is doing really well with her toilet training. This morning, after I picked her out of the cot, she raced into the bathroom, removed her own nappy and sat on the toilet to wee. I couldn’t have been prouder if she’d bashed out Beethoven’s Fifth on the keyboard.
Maybe it is time the kids went back to school. Without the distraction of homework they’re starting to find new ways to fill in time and amuse themselves.
“I heard I made your blog thingame,” Dad told me. Word travels fast – I only put it up eight hours earlier, before going to bed. “Give us a look then.”
I admit I was a little nervous. Aside from Tracey, I’m not used to watching the person I’ve written about, and let’s be honest, often in less than flattering terms, read my posts.