A good friend of mine texted me today to tell me her son had christened the potty for the first time. I hasten to add her that she was also texting to say hi and wasn’t just regaling me with more poo stories. However, whilst remaining proud of her adorable little lad for firmly ‘dropping one’ in the pot; it was all I could do to not text back shouting;
“Noooooo don’t do it. Potty training is the devils work.”
Regular readers of the blog will know I totally shamed my family this week at Sports Day, if you missed it, read it here.
Today a fellow school mum emailed me these fabulous photos that clearly shows off the dedication to win that seems to be inbred in my brood.
I was full of nervous apprehension this morning. I tried to hide it so the children wouldn’t pick up on the butterflies that were zorbing through my stomach.
I had everything ready the night before, tuna pasta had been made for the kids breakfast, their kit was clean, and their shoes were gleaming.
Sometimes I read rubbish stuff; mainly from the trash magazines that I read for a guilty pleasure but more often from the rags we call newspapers.
Today the headline that caught my eye in the Metro was:
Some ruffian has laid their lips on my daughter.
Some cheeky little so and so has had the nerve to declare himself my daughters first boyfriend and sealed the deal with a puckered up kiss which apparently she willingly accepted.