I Have A Complaint
byDear dairy industry: This has gone on way too long and people are suffering. Read as, I suffered this one time and I didn’t like it…
Dear dairy industry: This has gone on way too long and people are suffering. Read as, I suffered this one time and I didn’t like it…
We went to Brisbane this weekend for a family meet up. Good move. My family is genuine blog fodder.
Exhibit A and Exhibit B look essentially the same to me.
Let’s just say I briefly sounded like a Tarantino film.
My little boy is growing up.
Like so many people, the young me was a joke when it came to how he viewed parenting and how awesome he was going to be at it.
I’m the first to admit I’m hopeless when it comes to helping the kids with homework. Even maths seems different to when I was at school.
I have a confession.
“Your daughter thinks you’re an idiot,” Tracey wandered into our bedroom to tell me this morning. She delivered this in a matter of fact sort of tone I couldn’t have pulled off had the tables been turned. It’s hard to sound uninterested when you’re grinning like an idiot.
“What’s my birthday?” Miss7 asked myself and her mother. Don’t worry, it’s not like she didn’t know. Tracey and I had somehow been roped into a head to head quiz where the kids asked the questions and I got to feel dumb.
There’s more to being a tooth fairy than digging into your pocket for small change. But last night, I think I earned my wings.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Tracey asked me again. She was going away in the morning so I’d have all the kids. “Piece of cake,” I told her. Proof not all cake tastes good.
I get confused and am always calling our kids by the wrong names. I accidentally called out Miss3’s name yesterday but Miss1 arrived. Which was good because it was her I was after Tracey isn’t as pleased with this as I am.