The Butterfly Eff-ect
by“I’m friggin’ bored over here,” Miss4 shocked us by muttering the other day. She was sitting in a seat at the front of the bus and at first we weren’t entirely sure what she’d said. Or rather, we were hoping we’d misheard.
“I’m friggin’ bored over here,” Miss4 shocked us by muttering the other day. She was sitting in a seat at the front of the bus and at first we weren’t entirely sure what she’d said. Or rather, we were hoping we’d misheard.
We take our kids out of school for a holiday at least one week a year. Our reasoning is simple: we can’t afford premium rates at places like the Gold Coast. And, as importantly, I hate crowds.
Last night I was laughing at Master9’s response to the snippets of Sex Education Miss10 is bringing home from school. Tonight, I want to curl up in a fetal position and join him in a corner.
“I think she needs a nappy changed,” Tracey told me on Sunday morning as Miss2 waddled by with a nappy so full it was bobbing along between her knees like a bee’s stinger. It was full in the same way the Titanic has taken on a little water.
Tracey walked out of the bathroom, her and her clothes drenched from head to toe.
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “You forgot to undress before your shower?”