Monthly Archives: March 2013
The art of eating chocolate.
To all fellow lovers of chocolate there need be no excuse to indulge in a nibble or three of your favourite chocolates.
Easter Sunday means that Mammy has to step back and silently grind her teeth while her ravenous offspring devour their bodyweight in chocolate.
But they have surpassed themselves this year indeed and have displayed three most distinct ways of snaffling their Easter eggs.
We have the hamster, cram as much into your mouth as physically possible while making horrendous gasps for breath every ten seconds.
Then we have the ambitious all in one technique, doomed to fail as mouth has yet to catch up with ambitious plan.
Finally, the multi handed approach, the most dangerous as this technique can keep going all day and can strip an entire family of its chocolate stash.
Easter cat.
The Easter bunny has left Arnie in charge so there’s no chance of chocolate midnight feasts!
Fluffies and the meanie mum.
Yes they are fluffy, yes they are adorable and yes Evie you are super cute in your little teddy bear gillet with your big, enormous pleading eyes BUT…
…the lambs are not coming home with us and I am a meanie.
Easter Bonnets 2013.
The Easter bonnet making frenzy has scaled new heights this year.
Evie has gone fluffy chick crazy and Gruff being Gruff decided he wanted an Easter helmet.
Quiet.
Shock is a strange thing in kids, I didn’t expect them to be so ill the next day or perhaps just an unhappy coincidence..
Evie and Gruff have spent the best part of the day on the sofa asleep.
Timing.
Sometimes timing is everything.
I’m glad we were running late, we missed the uninsured, drunk driver that mounted the pavement and obliterated our front wall by minutes, the other driver, unfortunately, did not. (He is in hospital with three broken ribs).
Cutting equipment, lots of fire engines, police and people coming out to look at the smoking car hanging off a mountain of rubble in front of our house.
The what ifs don’t bear thinking about really.
I’m dishing out compulsory hugs today.
Greensleeves.
All children’s’ sleeves should come with sewn in hankies for the inevitable nose slide up the arm.
Silly hour.
Silly hour is the hour after dinner, just before bedtime.
The hour when all decorum gets thrown out of the window and the volume button on each child rockets.
It never ends well and the warning uttered, “It’ll all end in tears” always falls on deaf ears.
Hamish Mc Tat. (Who got lost and found all in one day).
Hamish Mc Tat, (real name).
Who snuck out of his house while the plumber left the back door open.
Who crossed the busy road.
Who went to see all the boys and girls going into nursery school.
Who sat on my back seat and said hello to our dog Bonnie.
Who very nearly went to our house for the afternoon while we made phone calls to find the owner.
Who finally got reunited with his happy owner.
Pasta disaster.
This is not what it looks like, I’m actually having an impromptu game of kerPlunk with the opened packet of spaghetti before dinner…
Dog bowl dipping.
Ah Gruff you have surpassed yourself, I think this beats the great cat bowl fiasco of 2010.
The hedgehog.
The hedgehog’s best defence is to curl up into a ball in the face of immediate danger from a predator or a mother brandishing a coat.
Dog Pillow.
Perfect for when you’re a bit under the weather. Licks and smell compliments of the dog.
If no one says anything, no one has to get hurt.
Oh the pain of being the only girl in full Welsh costume in your class on St David’s day.
Rugby shirt next year Millie?
Doodlemum 
