Monday, 5 November 2012
Laugh? I could have died.
Yesterday was something of a day. This was entirely my fault, having spent a full TWELVE HOURS the previous day out drinking in honour of Lorraine’s hen do. How I was not dead is beyond me. Although yesterday’s hangover felt pretty much like I imagine death does, exacerbated I’m sure by my fulfilment of my previous agreement with Neil to tidy my almost-beyond-help dressing area. (Yes, aged 31 I still need to be told to tidy my room. And?) Five hours later, 5 bin bags of ‘stuff’ shipped off to the tip and two children sat on my head throughout ... I was well beyond the point of having lost the will to live.
Through the Day of Doom there was one moment which managed, in the midst of all this pain and nausea, to bring a smile to my face. Ah, mad Mr Jamie. Early afternoon I was taking a brief break and was stood in the kitchen with Beth making some food. (Food = a Beth immediately present and correct, most usually standing poised between your legs on the basis that’s where spare bits of food are most likely to fall off the side and into your mouth. Who needs a dog when you have a Beth.)
Neil came in and decided he would use the opportunity to trim one side of Beth’s fringe – half finished business he clearly felt from when he’d attempted it in the bath the other night. Beth responded in her usual manner to her father and yelled for all she was worth. (Least favourite parent plus kitchen scissors is clearly a terrifying prospect.)
As I was attempting to placate Beth, managing to get her still enough so that Neil could make contact with her hair, Mr Jamie poked his head around the door. And asked, in the most matter of fact voice imaginable:
“Mummy? Has Beth been killed?”
Seriously. What goes on in his mad brain? A combination of both his pragmatism in the face of a potential crisis, and also his complete failure to be able to comprehend that, if she was yelling, chances were she probably hadn’t ‘been killed’ ... not to mention his suspicion that that was going to be the first choice of Neil and I when she failed to comply with the hair cutting process.
I have honestly laughed for about 12 hours straight. Which, let me tell you, is FAR more sensible than drinking for 12 hours straight. Read and learn, people, read and learn ...