Monday, December 3, 2012

It's Not Easy Being Green

I have a great idea for a television show.

It's called Grumpy Little Bastards. It uses the exact same format as Grumpy Old Men . Much like the BBC2 Whine-fest of having a bunch of men - many of whom aren't even close to being "old" -  complain that they can't figure out how to use Instagram properly my version involves various cut-together scenes of my son just having irrational tantrums. Like this mornings demand to have some juice to drink. Followed quickly by a complaint of, "I don't want any juice....". Then ten seconds later moaning because he can no longer reach his cup because he's pushed it too far away across the kitchen table. Which I shove back toward him and he ungratefully moans about how I always treat him like a baby. And the juice is crap anyway. That and his litany of moans this morning about how he wants me to carry him into the living room - but that I did it completely the wrong way and that no, he won't explain why it was wrong and if I don't know why then I clearly don't really love him anyway. Which was a nice echo of yesterday when he wandered into the living room and started barking angry comments incomprehensibly at his mother. It felt very much like we were in an old English pub and the very old drunk man that they always have in them got up and was yelling at us. Anyhoo - if I could somehow get Arthur Smith or John Sessions to narrate Grumpy Little Bastards I think it'd be dynamite. 

Feeling somewhat under-appreciated and sensitive this morning due to this abhorrent cold I took to trying to make my children laugh. First I suggested we play a game of Squasages. Which is basically rolling up in blankets and wriggling around on the floor on each other. But as fun as that was for me and my son it didn't really hit the spot for my daughter. I could tell becuase she gave me something called a "school punch". Which felt an awful lot like a regular punch.She did it with a half-hearted seriousness which usually means she's upset or feeling off. Which in her case is the awful cold. I let her know that she's going to school and that her mother and I are not of the opinion that a cold should keep you out of anything. Unless it's a really gross green-leaking one obviously. Which my son should get to tomorrow as he seems to be half-a-day more advanced than the rest of us.

That didn't cheer her up so I admit to lowering myself to just telling awful jokes. How awful?

Me: What do you call an angry platypus?
Daughter: (blank face)
Me: A platitude! No?! Not funny? Not chuckling at the duck-mole? Hello...?

At which point I shamefully hammed it up. I donned a jester's hat, got out the Sid The Science Kid doll and told her I'd do a comedy routine for her. With The Best Joke In The World as well. Which I did. I completely over-hammed it though. No-one on earth has bombed more than this.Underlined excellently by the barely-audible grunt at the end.


At least though I have a Christmas sweater for the year. I picked it up at a thrift store for 25 cents. Amusingly it isn't really a Christmas sweater - it's just a regular one that look this terrible. It's almost as bad as my hair.


And lastly my kids went to a birthday party. The theme was a Princess Tea Party. So my daughter got dolled up and my son went in his dinosaur outfit and pretended to be a dragon. This is pretty much the only decent photo I got of my daughter. Her mother made her hair look like a crown - which was pretty impressive.


Didn't get a photo of my son in his costume. But I did get one of him dressed in chavvy tracksuit bottoms, wearing a Santa hat and wiping his nose. It has a redeeming Rab C. Nesbitt quality to it.


Lastly I wanted to at least mention that I started another blog about Jesus. I made it separate from this because a) it's not about parenting, b) then you don't have to look at it if you don't want to, and c) it deserves to stand on it's own. It's a different style and language. I'd advocate starting at the beginning if you're interested.

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