My name is Owen; mummy writes about me sometimes, this is my blog debut. I have had to hijack mummy’s blog as I don’t know how to set one up myself – I am only four.
I woke up this morning it must have been wakey up time as the sun was up but my Spiderman clock said six zero zero. I was wide awake and bored so I wandered into mummy’s room stood really close to her nose and said in my best shouting voice ‘ Is it waking up time yet’ I know mummy doesn’t mind me doing this as she never shouts in fact sometimes I barely even hear her response. However apparently the sun being up does not equal waking up time so I wander back to my room and sit on my sister Molly until she wakes up. Together we discuss our roles for the day.
‘It’s your turn to be devil twin’ I state ‘today I have to be angel child’
Molly consults the good behaviour sticker chart and agrees she has one more than I do so it must be her turn to play mummy and daddy like a fiddle.
So I quickly get dressed whilst Molly decides to pretend she has woken up without any of her senses and can no longer dress herself, instead she crawls into mummy’s room and declares that she is too tired as I woke her up. This prompts a long discussion from daddy to me about the perils of waking up before seven o clock and how it is unfair and so on and so on and so on. Bloody grownups are obsessed with seven o clock – do they not know six is the new seven o’clock?
Whilst I wholeheartedly agree with Daddy and promise to never open my eyes before seven o clock ever ever again Molly steps it up a gear and demands that only mummy can brush her teeth, good strategic move here as mummy is currently stuck in the chair with baby Libby-Sue (who is also in on it but can get away with murder) sucking on her booby. While Daddy tries to reason with her Molly shoots me a questioning look, I give her the nod and she goes into full meltdown, real tears and everything just because mummy wont brush her teeth – fantastic work, completely irrational, and the grownups have no idea how to handle it.
Mummy at this point is turning a shade of pink and I can see she is getting ready to yell, however it is a little too soon for that. I have a bet on with Molly that it will take at least thirty minutes before mummy cracks and breaks her own no shouting rule and we are only at twenty. Stepping in quickly I do some damage control and snuggle into her arms and whisper ‘I love you, you’re the best mummy in the world’ and her colour starts to reduce slightly. Works a treat every time – the trick is to always say it with complete sincerity.
Breakfast time, mummy has already warned Molly that her second school cardie is in the wash so she mustn’t spill her breakfast down the one she is wearing. I mean it is like taking candy from a baby, it is just too easy for her. As soon as mummy leaves the room Molly grins like the Cheshire cat and sticks her finger in her weetabix and drags it slowly down her top. Not enough to look intentional, not little enough to ignore. The result being that I learnt something about equations today,
Molly + cardie + weetabix = mummy using a word we are not allowed to say,
What a result, wait till I teach it to the kids in the playground! Mummy will get booted off the PTA.
Molly then proceeds to lose her shoes, school bag and manages to empty her lunch bag on the floor in front of the dog – mum then officially cracks and lets out a roar that a Lion would be proud of. Daddy at this point has disappeared behind a book in the bath but for good measure Molly keeps nipping upstairs and stands in front of him saying ‘ Daddy, Daddy, Daddy’ without ever getting to the point to ensure he achieves zero relaxation.
For her grand finale Molly dramatically wrenches out her bunches at the door declaring she only wants to wear her hair down and she doesn’t care about nits – they can be her pets. Mummy goes into complete meltdown and daddy need to get out of the bath to calm the whole situation down and we arrive at school finally 5 minutes late. Mummy gives me a good behaviour sticker for being such a good boy.
Wicked morning – how can I top that tomorrow?