Saturday, 28 June 2008

Excellent continuation to the weekend

I am pretty sure Alice doesn't have cystitis. I lay in bed with bated breath, awaiting the shrieks when she got up this morning and went to the loo. Nothing, just her usual monologue, informing me of her plans for the day, and how Florence mustn't take Mr Tickles, oh no, he is her toy, Florence has her own, and when we go to Tesco we need to buy some jelly tots.....

So, curioser and curioser. I stand down from Defcon 2, and follow orders to go to Tesco (not just for the jelly tots). Tesco's was so jolly. Oh, no, that's right, it was hideous. I obviously go on 'I am a selfish tit' day or maybe it was the Annual 'haphazard Trolley Control' competetion. Is it me, or pray, is it not sodding rocket science to 'park' your trolley considerately. Bad enough that I have to grow 14 eyes to keep track of child-on-fast-forward, Alice darting here, there and everywhere, helpfully gathering odd stuff and launching it into the basket. Maybe the other shoppers were in an alternate reality, where there were not other shoppers, and so abandoning their trolleys at artful angles didn't matter as they were the only people in the shop. Added to this, our Tesco has its own mission statement 'The Customer is rarely right' so you just watch out for our bored, don't give a toss teenagers chatting to one another as the shelf-stacking thingy blocks almost the entire aisle (It's only the salad bit, no one needs that). Then there's 'old single bloke alcoholic who hates the world' VRRRRROOOOOOOOM....10 points, I got another kid.

After this glorious interlude we spent time playing in the garden, and I couldn't help notice Alice kept doing an impression of a man - namely grabbing her bits, giving em a quick twist, and moving on. Uh oh....

So back to Tesco we jolly well went later. I took a small gun. Bought some live yogurt. and crisps. and cucumber. But they're irrelevant. The yogurt was for Alice's...

What a performance!! Firstly of course I couldn't call it yogurt - we'd have got into the whole toddler logic thing, in which I instictively knew, yogurt on a monkey was not going to be a winner. So I called it 'special cream'. It was cold, and she screamed blue murder when I put it on, and insisted it hurted. It's a while since I have had the joy of the yard-broom affliction, but I don't recall yogurt 'hurting' as such.

Anyway, to cut a long story short (why didn't you do that 9 million words ago??!!) it ended up with me having to prove it didn't hurt. By having the yogurt treatment myself. All over my face, stomach and hair. By both of them.

What do these kids do to us?

1 comments:

The Stanford Family said...

HAHAHHAHAA you are so funny :)