“Here you go,” I said to Tracey, handing her a cup of tea.
I don’t expect a ticker tape parade when I spring a nice cuppa on my wife, but nor do I expect to be frowned at.
It seems I’m in trouble. Again.
“That reminds me,” said Tracey in an amused accusatory tone. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
Following the success of the Mothers Day high tea, Tracey decided to have a tea party with the kids these holidays – sometimes she just likes to pretend to be a lady with her girls.
We picked up a table cloth, tea pots and tea cups from the local op shop for a couple of dollars and she bought cakes and biscuits to accompany them. The scene was set.
While my wife had a lovely picnic in the yard I did my favourite holiday activity – the afternoon nap. I’m getting hell good at napping, managing anywhere from two to three hours a pop. Twice this week I’ve had to be woken up for dinner.
“I poured the kids cups of tea – well, juice in tea cups,” Tracey scowled at me, “and do you know what they did next?” Before I could answer she went on. “They toasted each other.”
I’ve got to say, I’m relatively new to the ‘tea with the girls’ concept, but the idea of the kids saying ‘cheers’ and chinking their tea cups over their dainty little saucers put a huge smile on my face.
“That’s cute,” I insisted.
“It could have been,” said Tracey. She picked up a plastic cup off the floor, called Miss2 into the room, gave her the cup and said, “Cheers.”
“Uppabom,” squealed Miss2 back to her, grinning and smashing the her plastic cup into Tracey’s tea cup.
I looked at my wife with a totally clueless expression which perfectly matched what I was thinking.
“Wait here,” said Tracey, and disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing with a beer for me. I avoided her mistake of frowning at such wonderful generousity, and instead gave her a huge grin and said thanks. She raised her tea cup to me and said, “To us.”
I raised my beer, chinked her cup and said, “Up ya…ohnotheydidn’t!!”
At the delightful little afternoon tea Tracey had set up in our backyard, my kids were chinking cups and yelling my all-time favourite toast at the top of their voices for all the neighbours to hear.
“Up your bum!”
Yep, I’m in trouble. Again.
But this time I’m laughing about it, and Tracey has a resigned sort of bemusement towards the whole thing.
Although, I do wonder if we’ll still be chuckling the next time we go to a restaurant and order the kids a round of drinks…
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