Poo In The Bath, Secret Lovers and Other Snaphots Of This Moment

Right now, here we are:

1. It was just yesterday that I said to Keith ‘Gee, we haven’t had a poo in the bath for a long time.’ Well played, fate,  you old bastard! I thought tonight as I disinfected my previously happy place.*  The karmic indignity compounded when I remembered that I had a Picnic Bar set aside to eat in the bath tonight. Could I have chosen a more poo-like chocolate while I was trying to read my book and pretend that the atrocity hadn’t happened?

2. Recently T-Bone said to me ‘When Daddy is dead, let’s put the cover of Plants Versus Zombies on his gravestone’. I was moved. Honours come no higher than this. Yesterday, he cuddled up under my arm at the stove while I taught him how to make a bechamel sauce for post-rugby-practice lasagne, and he told me, ‘Mum, I wish I was a baby again just so I could have more time with you.’  Also he told me I smell like scrambled eggs (his favourite.)

3. Ivy is obsessed with trying to get me to play  ’Truth Or Dare’, but she has only one ‘truth’: who do you love? (she will allow no family member, friends, or joke answers, and she waits with barely contained excitement for me to tell her who my secret lover is) and one  ’dare’: lick this chili. She tries to play this single-option version of ‘Truth or Dare’ with me every day when she is not making ‘Starburst’ loom band rings, practicing headstands, singing ‘Let It Go’ or reading Tintin.

4. Yesterday at school I sat up the back of the library to watch Ivy compete in her public speaking final. I gave Pudding my phone to keep her quiet, and let her scroll through the photos. I did not know that she and T-Bone had secretly recorded a comedy video that featured a lot of wildly swinging camera work and the two of them chanting ‘poo, poo, poo, poo, squeezey yogurt poo’ . It played quite loudly until I could wrestle the phone out of Pudding’s  little paws and switch it off.  Meanwhile, the entire back two rows of children swung around in delight and I hung my head in shame (again.)

3. Two-year-old Pudding experiences every emotion with full-bodied commitment. Last week, on the way home from Nanna and Pop’s house, she was wracked with heartbroken sobs because she realised that she had forgotten to reply ’Don’t forget your toilet paper’ to Pop’s ‘see ya later, alligator.’ Also, when I put her to bed last night she put her hands underneath my chin and pushed my head backwards. I struggled away from her strong little fists and asked her what she was doing. ‘Trying to drake your neck, Mama,’ she said. Aw, bless.

How I adore these three fully-formed, individual and interesting humans who live in my house.

Vive le children!

*this is not a euphemism for the white-wine-vinegar vinegar douche I give my lady garden every Saturday night. I promise never to be coy when I do get around to a full tutorial on this.