There was much screaming and wailing in the car last night on the return home. I sometimes just need an opportunity to terrorise the children and turn the tables. Just sometimes.
I had purchased a variety of birthday cards for a certain someone’s special day coming up on Thursday. As the two sweeties were perusing my card options I mentioned that there were better cards with boobies that I had considered but realised they would be horrified to have their names signed on such a card.
I was assured absolutely that this was the case and then Miss13 must have given Miss10 the wink wink nudge nudge which prompted Miss10 to tell me that I “mustn’t even dare consider THAT“.
I assured her that THAT had only been done twice – once for Miss13 and once for herself. Miss13 then went on to assure her that this wasn’t the case and that THAT had been done many times. In fact apparently once a week according to her current data.
Continuing my reign of terror I ventured that perhaps THAT happens four times a week. In fact THAT could happen daily and sometimes even twice daily. [Not that it actually does anymore because we are old and married and I am the only woman left on the planet that has not ready Fifty Shades. My friend Nat has mentioned that there is nothing a blindfold and pair of handcuffs can’t fix – but we’ll talk about the birthday present later].
Miss10 by this stage was screaming like a banshee and holding her ears closed.
There was then talk of birth control and how they hoped I was being careful not to have another baby because they would be moving out and I would be a complete freak if that happened. I assured Miss13 that I would move out with her but she assured me she didn’t want me and my pregnant self to follow her.
And that seems to be how we roll with The Talk in our family. Never a dull moment. Parent of the Year is mine. Hands down. With or without the cuffs.
Love and light