I am seriously thinking I should get a license from the local council and call my house a zoo. Watching breakfast feeding time would be the highlight of the day, and I will stand at the front door with handfuls of breakfast cereals to throw in the kitchen. Don’t worry about the mess, our kitchen already looks like someone carried out a science experiment and lost.
I came down from breakfast today to find my little girl had made herself breakfast with chocolate balls in the full cream milk. My son arrived from his pit having heard the noise of the cereal box opening, and immediately claimed he was emaciated. Having took pity on my poor starving caveman, I gave him some dry chocolate balls in a bowl, as he doesn’t really like milk. This is great for me, and I am taking the most heavenly of coffees to work. Pity I am not allowed a cow instead of a car in my car parking space at work!
I left the room for a minute, maybe two tops, and when I came down someone had put a firework in the cereal box, and let it off. There were chocolate balls everywhere, and my son was now helping himself to the chocolate balls from the box. It looked like a rabbit had lost control of it’s bowels! It’s a good job we don’t have a rabbit, as I would have been spoon feeding it diarrhoea medicine by the gallon! It’s ok, your loving parents are employed to clean up, so please don’t worry kids, me and the dustpan and brush are on first name terms now. I do wonder if its really sad asking for a handheld hoover for my birthday?
My wife announced as I came out of the shower some horrifying news. Now before you get all excited there is nothing to panic about, but she did announce it was haircut time for my son. Why? Seriously is it that time of the year already? Surely it cannot be time yet. I am still getting over rabbit poo breakfast, and my cup of tea is already shivering, and I have yet to check for floating chocolate balls in my cup. I decided to go first and show my son that hair-clippers do not kill, although since using them I am going bald faster, but best to gloss over this for my three year old son! After my wife did my hair, we invited my son in, and said “Haircut time!” To which he announced “No thanks,” and walked away. Whoa there tiger, mummy just scalped me to demonstrate the clippers do not kill, so play your part son, and sit. His lips drooped and his sad eyes came out, until I brought out some chocolate which I had been given as gift, and suddenly we went from Captain Sad to ecstatic joy and sat in the chair. I thought this was going a little too well, as we hadn’t had to pin him down or anything until my wife got going. With his head half done, he finished the chocolate and out came the tears and wriggling. Quickly I found more chocolate and inserted it into his mouth, and suddenly we were allowed to start again. The trouble was my wife was going too slowly, and at the rate we were going either he would be diabetic before the haircut finished, or I would run out of chocolate before the haircut finished. I explained our predicament, and the pace was picked up along with the tears, and displeasure being shown.
I am just off to go round my neighbours and ask them to not call the police as no one has been injured, it was just that time of year for my sons haircut. Is it bad of me to try and book a holiday for next years event, or does it get better? It does get better doesn’t it?