My Eyes, My Eyes…

When you put the fan on for the wee one to help ease her breathing and all it does is spread the fartage around the room. OMG, seriously you stink Rosie, we are trying to watch a movie and chill out and you are killing us here.

You of course know the smell I’m referring to – the one where you swear your eyeballs are melting in thier sockets and you look like gandalf the white as you pull your clothes over you face (mines the dressing gown – curry dribbles included free) trying to stop the fumes perforating your sensitive nostrils, while you try to silently gagg in the corner.

It is so bad Maggie has left the room and Willie has vacated to higher ground – in the hope the stench will not reach him (it will – remember I mentioned the fan.) God know what has caused the offensive smell but it’s obviously not bothering Rosie, how is very aware she is trumping loudly but just doesn’t care – the tramp. I think we will be sleeping with the window open tonight…

**Seems the offensive smell maybe my fault – I may have sneaked her a (tea) spoon of ice-cream earlier – shhh don’t tell MR 3WD&P.

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