You'll have to bear with me over the next week. I just started a new job so fitting in things like this suddenly seems almost impossible. On the bright side it should mean I'm more concise and brief than usual. It also means I get to test just how ignorant I am at working and being a one-parent dad (when I have the kids, obviously). I genuinely have absolutely no idea what people do when they get that 9.30am phone call from school/daycare that announces that their child just puked all over the floor and they need to come extricate them immediately. Not a clue.
On the other hand my son has managed to cram in a whole bunch of nonsense into Sunday and yesterday. Principally stomping around the house and chanting, "SAFETY ON YOUR PENIS". Easily the oddest town crier I've ever encountered. I have obviously tried to see the positive in his message and assumed that he's just adding together two things he's obsessed with (those being safety rules and the word "penis") and trying to pass on his knowledge to others. Which doesn't really follow because he spent a decent portion of Sunday telling his mother that he was going to find her penis. Her being her she laboriously explained that women don't have penises. They have vaginas, a uterus and Fallopian tubes and whatnot. Obviously those facts landed hard as his two responses were firstly that he would, "poop on your peep." You should note that he phrased that as a question somehow. When his mother deliberately ignored that and repeated the whole mantra that women don't have a pork truncheon but a bacon sandwich he joyfully concluded that he'd poop on that too.
That might sound annoyingly irritating (and it is) but it still very much beats his serial-killer good-night cuddle he gave me yesterday when he affectionately said, "I'm going to cut you Daddy." Thankfully he was too tired to follow that up with the inevitable point that it was going to be either my poop or my penis that he'd cut. Because I don't sleep as it is - and I'd rather not have to schedule special watches during the night to make sure he doesn't rush me with a carpet knife.
Anyhoo - his sister is demanding a cup of moose juice and Cheerios with Money. And I must oblige.