Bad Hair, Lazy Days and Mini Torture Devices.

Collette Brown from SHAK Fun Fundraising Group popped in this morning to collect their doggy hamper. The dogs were super excited to have this new person they could introduce themselves to. However, they looked abit mad and dishevoled with their mad morning hair. So maybe not their best paw forward, but then it is Sunday.

Sunday’s are for mad hair, lazy days and slouching around on the sofa (well that is in fairyland.) I had a girlie day yesterday, meaning all the boring everyday household chores got bumped on. Hello cleaning day!

Now cleaning day, would not of took all day but I jinxed myself. I said the words yesterday. As my sister lopped away home with her kids. Yep I said (outloud) “and I don’t want to see you and kids until Monday”. So when the phone buzzed this morning, nice and early. Yep it was her!

The teenie weenie human was unwell. Now, we couldn’t say no to that could we. So the husband filled the car up with petrol (again) and took my sister and the teenie weenie human to get checked out at the drop in centre at the hospital. Thus I took over the responsibility of two (more) preenagers. Yeah! Rock on!

Of course hospital= hours and hours of waiting, so by the time they got back the preenagers were celebrating their 21st birthdays, getting jobs and moving out! Well it certainly felt that long anyway (I may have slightly over exaggerated.)

All was well with the short, wiggly human though, well nothing that some antibiotics and Calpol can’t fix. The husband though. He was just, well broken. I’m pretty sure he had a twitch in his left eye. He had stupidly offered to watch the said mini ninja in the car, while my sister popped into the shop (quickly) to get his medicine.


1. Pharmacies are NEVER quick.

2. Neither is my sister.

3. Children (especially babies) can smell weakness a mile away, so the screaming incoherently pretty much started straight away.

4. The screaming did not stop on picking up the mini torture device. It actually escalated really quickly, as the hands waved, grabbed and physically abused as many buttons in the car as it could. Awkward!

By the time my sister got back to the car Mr Three White Dogs and a Pig was ready to launch him out of the window (The man crying had already started.) Actually he (my husband) was so traumatised he ran a bath when he got home and hid (I should really go and check on him, seeing as be went in at five o’clock.)

But I’ve got the tv controller to myself, so I’m not 😜

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