They Scrub Up Okay…

Last night mummy pulled two strange contraptions out of the cupboard. We have never seen these contraptions before and felt we must investigate them throughly. While pulling these things out if the cupboard mummy was mumbling under her breath – it’s the kind of mumble that she uses when talking about the nearly man children but instead of their names, daddies name keeps cropping up. She is mumbling something about she will gain wifey points for this and see what lenghts she goes to to make Mr three white dogs and a pig happy. She is the best wife ever.

Mummy is pretty sure that these brownie points must be worth some sort of diamond encrusted gift or even a fourth dog and she’s super impressed with herself.
You see daddy was being a grumpy monkey. It is mummy and daddy’s Christmas night out. Daddy is whinging and whining that he doesn’t want to go- he would rather stay at home and have a nice warm bubble bath and watch Christmas movies. This is because life is not fair and mummy has hours and hours to get ready, where as has he only has 40 minutes and his shirt is crumpled and all of his lovely man colleagues at work are always so lovely and smart and smooth and ironed. 
He then goes on to explain to Mummy that all of his man colleagues at work have lovely loving wives who run around after them, ironing their shirts,  taking care of them and stuff .Mummy thinks this is a load rubbish.
I mean what self-respecting modern woman would go running around pampering the big man children (husbands) I mean they can iron for themselves can’t they? If their perfect goodie two shoes wifeys do indeed do all of their husbands ironing it must certainly be because they are still in honeymoon period and have not had ungrateful children that are all grown up – horrid and unappreciative  teenagers.
Mummy loves Daddy though, so the ironing commences. However, when daddy got home, daddy was not nearly as appreciative or over dramatic about mummies ironing, as she felt he ought to be -but she accepted the thanks gratefully (while mumbling under her breath) and went to get ready herself. This is of course was when the trouble really started. They were getting ready- to go out- without us! Now we could no’t have that could we, not without some kind of protest. 
So we teamed together – every dark item of clothing mummy and daddy laid down- we sat, rolled and slept on. Every step they took – we hid underfoot, unbeknownst to them. We stole socks and odd shoes – threw ourselves in front of doors- we pulled out all the stops. To no avail. They still left us (with the almost man children) to party the night away. I suppose it’s okay really  though – it’s only one evening- we can give them that, can’t we. They did scrub up okay.

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