It’s 0938hrs and the minxes have been fed, watered and reasonably well de-gunged (4 pongy nappy changes since 0700hrs and counting). Minx 2 had 4 showers and baths on Tuesday, so I hope we can stay below that today. They’re all agog at Mr Tumble on CBeebies’ ‘Something Special’, so I’ve got 15 minutes to myself. Well, the elder 2 are studying Mr Tumble; the minx-in-training is studying them closely.
Like over breakfast. Baby Minx didn’t take her eyes off Biggest Sister once, imitating her chewing and crunching of her porridge (crunching? Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t a great cook?!) and pursing her lips in a baby imitation of a whistle. Breakfast is normally like a chimps’ tea party in our house but this morning everyone was pretending to be something else: Minx 1 had dressed herself so was wearing her pink thermals, a pink tee-shirt, her pink fairy dress, pink fairy wings and pink fairy headband; Minx 3 was in a zebra babygrow; I’m in ‘sporting apparel’, and Minx 2 is pretending to be a good girl. Minx 2 was singing “Agadoo” to herself in between forkfuls (!) of porridge: “Agadoo-doo-doo, poo a pineapple up a tree”
Minx 1 fondly looks at her little sister and exclaims, “You’re so cute, L”.
“No I not!”, the songstress hotly denied, “I naughty!”
Well, there we have it. By her own admission. Do I have any hope of maintaining control?! The Boss has promised me a whip for Christmas, though I don’t know if he means the lion-taming one that I need and want, or not…
Talking of Christmas, I’m so excited that my favourite site is almost ready for action: http://portablenorthpole.tv/ You upload a photo of your child, answer some questions about them, then you’re emailed a link to a personalised video of Santa checking if your child has been naughty or nice and promising to bring specific presents on their Christmas list. The girls loved it last year, but Little Miss Empathy (eldest) burst into tears when we played Daddy’s video: he was rebuked by Santa for leaving his underwear on the floor, and warned that if he didn’t spend less time on the internet that he’d not get any presents. I laughed like a walrus, but I guess that kind of humour is generally lost on 3 year olds…
Well, my Cuppa Sleep is almost over, so time to go steel myself for a morning of Santa List compiling and painting with the whirlwinds. Before I go, I probably need to explain the 2 drinks I consume most often: Cuppa Sleep and Cuppa Wet. Both are so-called because naming them ‘coffee’ is totally inadequate. The former is strong enough to replace about 2 hours of sleep; the latter is instant decaf, so isn’t worthy of the descriptor ‘coffee’. I consume both in stupendous quantities. I find the resulting halitosis adds a special ambience to my snarling grumpy old trout-ness.
Oh pants, I can hear the irritatingly cheery “I Can Cook” – time to remove the TV plug fuse (my clever little blighters can work the TV and freeview zappers). It’s not the fake I-love-lil-kids-honest-look-at-me-fondly-smiling of the programme that I dislike – it’s the chirpy guitar song at the end. For some reason it makes me want to strangle myself. Must be the subliminal messages.