Today the kids drove me to Giddybonkersville. The route was thus: Little Minx (not the pop band; though had they been here they might have lent a hand or bent an ear - I was tempted to do the latter) emptied a bottle of talc onto the bedroom carpet floor. Aside: Have you seen their collective LM hair?Cousin It has nothing on them. Their hair could be given its own record contract. Carpet is now a retching shade of pale blue rather than the teal or no teal it once was - an approximation therof - such was the abuse of the blue when mixed with an unidentified liquid. Next, Little Minx's reaching hand found my new glass pepper mill and smashed it all over the kitchen floor. The shards were tiny as was my temper - Tiny Tempah? had he been here he could have danced for me in a Royal Blue Suit, or some Hawaiian Shorts - hold the booty girls, they are NEVER right. "Everybody Go Low," he could have helped me pick up those tiny tiny shards that flew all over the place like a Tempah exploding. "Flippin' loco. Worse than giving away your last Rollo," - check the lyrics out for that one. Anyone would think I was promoting the mini-man; he's just workin' it for this blog. Next Little Minx took it upon his tiny self - put Tiny Tempah out of your mind for now - to hit his older brother on the head with a (thankfully plastic) yellow golf club.
Next, Kid Three, the fast one who draws all the small creatures, sneezed viscerally on his own work and melted down - his own work and his ability to stay calm in the process. He then insulted his sister's Seuss-style tree that she had drawn too close to the building-eating dinosaur that he had just executed. Sister sobbed. I placated and suggested 'scooter-riding down the prom.' This began with a fierce, screamy scooter pile up at the front gate. I too felt screamy - like there was a scrumsworth of little people fighting for the same ball in my chest - but kept the little screamers in check - within and without. I then ran along the road whilst my three avoided the obstacle course of poo on the pavement, which resulted in scooter pile ups on the pavement on more than one occasion and once, involved the decoration of poo on foot and scooter. Had the poo offender and his/her? dog appeared at that moment, he or she would have left wearing their dog as a hat - don't worry, a live hat. I then sprinted along the prom refereeing the kids as they scared the old ladies out walking their dogs by zooming past them with me yelling alongside.
A happy thing happened on the beach. My kids, who were once attacked by some dogs on a beach in Anglesey, met a galloping dog. I calmed them as the owner advanced with the usual: "Don't worry he's fine with children." He then offered the kids dog biscuits to give Tramp (the dog) and my faith in dog and humankind was restored. I even watched him searching for the poo his dog had left on the beach, deposited as he spied my kids and galavanted off towards us before his owner had a chance to retrieve it. Next the kids did some dangerous things on the rocks on the beach that freaked me out and I insisted we went home. En route, Little Minx refused to scoot along the sea wall, insisting on veering to the other side and the dodgy drop down to the road. Tiny Tempah and all the little people nearly exploded out onto the prom. And this used to be such a quiet Seasidey Retirementy sort of place! The only drama before we came was watching the oldsters drive really fast, then really slow, sometimes missing corners out altogether. Until we arrived. You don't want to compare our missile attacked front lawn with those of our kidless neighbours - theirs are clipped within an inch of their lives. Our place is wild and ferral, and that's just the kids...but here's the rub...
Once home, Sister and I had a good chat about perfection and how unfamiliar with it I am. We laughed with (I think, understanding - unless that was naked fear I saw in her eyes). I then cut everyones sandwiches into silly shapes and we had our usual cheery banter over lunch. During 'nap' time - was ever a word used more loosely? I read and sang from one of my husband's old (and politically incorrect) song and rhyme books. I practised my 'bluegrass comedy accent' and included vocal banjo sounds. Shiny Kid laughed so much he looked as though he might morph into something completely unkidlike. I had so much fun one of the kids had to tell me when I had had enough so that he could 'concentrate on his drawing now.' Why the Tiny Tempah/Little Minx analogies? When I sat down to write, the comedy side of my music loving brain just went there and they came punning into the mix. The thing is, I write for my own amusement, and they just seemed to fit the piece. Happy that you are reading until the end too though. Giddybonkers though you may be. That makes we.