17 June, 2012


Today it's Father's Day.  A day where dads everywhere get breakfast in bed and treated like kings.  Even here!!!  Himself is always on (and on and on and on) about how he's never had breakfast in bed, which isn't true by the way, so myself and no.2 (nos. 1 and 3 having done a bunk) made him a big fry up.  
Myself and 2 staggered upstairs with both present and breakfast tray and helped Himself eat his breakfast.  2 was so happy with the breakfast in bed situation he went downstairs and brought up his own sausage sambo and a jar of ketchup (ketchup is in jar because someone (3)shook it so violently it went flying through the air and smashed it's arse on the floor.  Being a tight mare I squeezed the ketchup into a pretty jar.  A jar which now also contains the coating from a chicken dipper and some peas.  Blugh.
1 and 3 wandered off to get dressed and Himself said, quietly - or so he thought, "how about you give me 15 minutes and come back and make love to me??"  Nudge, nudge etc.  Rather than remarking on the making love 'to' rather than 'with' him.  Ugh, rather than 'making love' full stop I'll tell you about how 2's face kind've slid until his smile was upside down and he looked distinctly worried.  Himself hadn't reckoned for yer man's super hearing.  Yer man hadn't reckoned on hearing his ma propositioned either.  He, like his smile, just slid off the bed and legged it.  There was no lurve making at all.  
Poor kid, he'll need therapy.  Oh, so will I by the way as Himself has asked me to de-hair him before we go on holidays.  He's a very hairy one. VERY. VERY hairy.  He can't be waxed as he reacts to the wax so he has to be immac-ed which means it looks like a small animal has died in our bathroom by the time he has finished defuzzing.  Last time I helped him I think I puked.  Hate hair.  Hate lots of hair.  Hate hair in pools of suds.  Ughghghghhg. I know how 2 felt now.  Gross man.

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