Tuesday 17 January 2012: Pied Piper...
690/365: ... of Nottingham
Laughing too much to actually play because he's been doing an impression of a bloaty faced fish only moments before as his eyes bulged with the effort of all the puff going nowhere. This is part of the restfulness of family mealtimes in our house. The idea behind having family mealtimes is good, right? When we're home we'll always eat lunch and dinner together. But the idea of having a relaxing conversation is normally interrupted by:
1. Child A dropping something
2. Child B refusing to eat something
3. Child A giggling
4. Child B climbing on the table to reach something rather than it being passed to them
5. Child A sharing lots of poo jokes
6. Child B laughing hysterically at lots of poo jokes
7. Child A bouncing about on their chair
8. Child B keeping only half a bum cheek on the seat
9. Child A spilling their drink all over everything
10. Recorder playing
Sophisticated conversation and the appreciation of a home cooked meal? Sadly absent. At all times.
Felix has just given me a baby angel. He's telling me that she flew away and then she came back and he decided to give her too me. He's also telling me he loves me. And bouncing on the sofa. Naked.
Do you ever get the feeling life with children is somehow surreal?
Work is exceptionally calm in comparison. A bucketload of meetings. A few bits of negotiating of stuff. A bit of thinking up some ideas. Writing up things. But no nudity. Not that I've noticed anyway. And no bouncing on the furniture. And when I open my sarnies, no-one pops their head around the corner to tell me they're disgusting and WHY DID YOU MAKE THAT?!?!?!?
Yeah. Work is an oasis of sanity compared to life with two young children.
PS Am off to read them a bedtime story
PPS Felix is now telling a story about a pickled onion who charged at him...
PPPS ... Oh. Dear.