Call from the Police....

Picture the scene......

A kitchen that looks like a man has been in it for a few hours (oh sorry- this is true), three children doing their   own thing on Saturday morning without Mummy reminding them about homework, reading and brushing their teeth, leaving the Sudocrem alone etc ............ and a lone white telephone on the kitchen table.

(In case you wonder, I was running around an astro-pitch at Glamorgan University Sports Ground and had left the house early and proceeded through permafrost towards Treforest to play hockey).

Imagine the same phone ringing later that morning and my nearest/dearest answering it with his usual cheery "Good Morning! although he may have had to hunt for the phone amongst the bloated cheerios, toast crumbs and Marmite, but needless to say - it was answered.

The conversation apparently went a bit like this.....

• Nearest/Dearest - "Good Morning!"
• Policeman (Cool Tone)- "Good Morning - we have received a 999 Distress call from this number."
• Nearest/Dearest - (Pause with likely thought of "Oh F***) -         Oh.......?
• Policeman (Still Cool)  - "Yes - can you confirm that you do not require this service Sir?
• Nearest/Dearest - "No, sorry, we have no emergency at this number, it must have been my daughter.  Sorry"
• Policeman - "OK, I need to confirm your Name and Address"
• Nearest/Dearest confirmed details, apologised again and the conversation ended.

When I found out, I immediately asked whether we were going to be fined but it would appear that on this occasion (our first ever and last hopefully) we have escaped what appears to be legitimate fine.

You will be pleased to hear that the phone is being relocated immediately to ensure no further calls can be made to jeopardise those who really need it.

Tri Poo!

We recently braved a family visit to London over half-term as #1 wanted to see Big Ben and #2 wanted to see the Queen at Buckingham Palace - as you do being 5.

Thankfully we have dear friends who live on the outskirts of the big city and we were lucky enough to park and leave the car on their drive after a really EASY drive around the M25 to get to them....Yes - it really is possible!!

Anyway, we alighted in Waterloo after a short train journey and then proceeded to walk around the London Eye, Big Ben and Buckingham Palace - the children had been cooped up in the car all the way down the M4 and deserved a good run around.

The prompt for tea from all three of our little cherubs whilst hitting Leicester Square around 1630 was rather stressful, given that we had just negotiated the tube with a buggy and x2 overnight bags so we ended up traipsing into Bella Italia which seemed to offer a reasonably decent children's' menu.

It was then that I noticed that all the tables had been set romantically for two as we (being parents of young children) had not considered the impact of Valentines night......we were however given a table, tucked away where noise levels could hopefully be maintained to a reasonable level.

Our children did us proud.  They were polite, well-mannered and even kept their bottoms on seats throughout the entire meal, except their compulsion to have to go and "check out" the toilets downstairs.  
Naturally they could not go on their own so I was elected to escort both #1  #2 to the depths of the building to probably one of the smallest toilet cubicles on earth......both decided that I had to wait whilst they saw fit to fragrance the air.  I felt like a furtive thief waiting outside their toilet doors, praying that nobody would come in and think I was responsible for the smell....

Upon returning to the table, I whiffed the unmistakeable "poop de Nappy" of #3 which the nearest and dearest was kind enough to contend with whilst I attempted to complete my meal.

You would think this was the end but before the bill arrived, #3 darted under the table and again I suspected "movement"......yes, this time it was my turn to try and change the nappy of a 23 month child, who is happy to tell you she has done a poo, whilst you try and bend your body into a cubicle with no baby changing facility.

10 mins later, we emerge into the wash-room where one of our "table neighbours" breaks London tradition and actually talks to us....."I must say that your daughter here and your children upstairs have really made my husband and myself smile during our meal and we were surprised to hear her (#3) name as its the same as mine and we don't know any others!"

#3 looked at the lady and gave that baleful look that can induce paranoia into the most confident of individuals but I was so pleased to hear friendly feedback from a complete stranger on my young family and their behaviour in public.   It really was a Valentine's moment for the parents but not with the smell of roses...

Image below from http://crappypictures.com/images/old/6a01538f62421f970b01538f666de5970b-800wi.jpg.......says it all!

Miss Mouse and the sore Foof

Ah - the joy of half-term.

Day two and other than swimming, a little light shopping, tea at friends and optician appointments, we have been taking it easy.

This afternoon, whilst upstairs sorting old clothes (a great way to enjoy annual leave)  I heard little footsteps on the stairs, then heard the little voice of #3 (who is not yet two) informing me that she had "ceem on hands mummy, ceem on hands"

I  then saw little fingers, smothered in a white substance,  rise up like ghost posts through the slats in the stairs.

Upon quickly placing her on my hip and from just the smell alone, I knew immediately that the Sudocrem pot had been left lying around.......the conversation went something like this:

• Me - "#3, what have you been doing?"
• #3 - "Put ceem on hands mummy"
• Me - "Why #3?"
• #3  - "Mousey sore foof, mousey sore foof"
• Me - Oh no...........

We then moved into the kitchen, where I discovered "Miss Mouse", her favourite woollen friend, propped up against the wall with her legs akimbo.

Miss Mouse looked something like this.....

I guess it could have been worse.....might have been a sore bottom too.

Cruel words....

A quick post based on the observations of #2 when she recently helped take  #1 to a mid week event.  

I was only told about it whilst out on the weekend with my husband (who like me) inwardly winced at the distinct reasoning behind the open comment.

Apparently it went something like this....

• #2 (with loud voice) - Look Daddy, that person looks like Hagrid!

This comment is unfortunate on a few levels:

1 - The person was a woman.  (The comment was made  in a quiet queue)

2 - Hagrid, as all Harry Potter fans know, is not particularly svelte or feminine

3 - Our failings as parents to encourage our children to keep such pertinent thoughts to themselves

4 - Worse...I immediately realised who #2 was referring to as I have had a similar thoughts myself but could not succinctly place the character.    Shame on me.......