He's Back
At least I think it's him.
I popped home in between Board meetings last night. I was engulfed in a cloud of aftershave as I opened the back door. The toilet seat was up on the downstairs loo. I recognised the kitchen. Crap adorned every erstwhile-shiny surface. There was a stray sock in the middle of the floor and new rugby boots spilling out of the box on the breakfast bar. A pile of bedding sat expectantly in front of the washing machine.
The sofas now resembled a Tracy Emin installation. I nearly tripped over the hold-all at the bottom of the stairs. As I looked up, I could see a bath sheet draped over the banister. A tap dripped.
His bedroom, recently sanitised, straightened, stocked with fresh bedding, sumptuous throws and a fluffy robe ( for visiting comedians) had been ransacked.
I had to be straight out again after the briefest of ablutions so didn't have time to further investigate whether I had developed a particularly nasty Goldilocks infestation or my son truly had landed for the weekend.
Formal Board business over, I came back at lunchtime today. The tenner I'd baited the worktop with had gone along with a packet of noodles, half a loaf of bread and a banana. The sink was full.
As I loaded the washing machine, I sighed. Contented.
I popped home in between Board meetings last night. I was engulfed in a cloud of aftershave as I opened the back door. The toilet seat was up on the downstairs loo. I recognised the kitchen. Crap adorned every erstwhile-shiny surface. There was a stray sock in the middle of the floor and new rugby boots spilling out of the box on the breakfast bar. A pile of bedding sat expectantly in front of the washing machine.
The sofas now resembled a Tracy Emin installation. I nearly tripped over the hold-all at the bottom of the stairs. As I looked up, I could see a bath sheet draped over the banister. A tap dripped.
His bedroom, recently sanitised, straightened, stocked with fresh bedding, sumptuous throws and a fluffy robe ( for visiting comedians) had been ransacked.
I had to be straight out again after the briefest of ablutions so didn't have time to further investigate whether I had developed a particularly nasty Goldilocks infestation or my son truly had landed for the weekend.
Formal Board business over, I came back at lunchtime today. The tenner I'd baited the worktop with had gone along with a packet of noodles, half a loaf of bread and a banana. The sink was full.
As I loaded the washing machine, I sighed. Contented.
posted by Cherrypie at 1:42 pm
7 Comments:
He sounds as if he needs a damn good thrashing. If you do that, and like it, can I add my name to the list?
Now, Vicus. That is very naughty. Any more of that behaviour and you will have to be punished.
cp, i read this and i know how much i've missed your writing.
:)
HAHAHA! Oh how I have missed you and witticisms.
Vicus is sooo OLD SCHOOL!
Doesn't he know that we modern Helicopter Parents hover above our brood and gush at their zany, madcap, antics.
This is how we passive/aggressively punish our own parents for making us so bloody responsible and brimming with guilt! We steal their molly-coddling job right from under their noses in the hope that they will start doing all that tough Parenting crap that we abhor.
Good for you!
I can bring my washing up in November if you like
Hey Cherrypie. you are back too!You are a good mom to your boy. Btw, where did he go?
lovely!
Just thank your lucky stars you don't have girls or your new shoes, make-up and any decent clothing you had left would also have mysteriously vanished.
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