Re-post: I breed feisty children - Sept 05
From Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Half past eight this morning, Ali and Zara still asleep, me stuck in the middle of a huge pile of washing-up, determined to clear the chaos that had ensued due to a housework-free indulgence day yesterday, before I even had a cup of tea. Of course, yesterday was the day my posh neighbour chose to make her first impromptu visit in the 8.5 years since we moved here, when I hadn't vacced the stairs carpet for a fortnight and the place looked like a slum, but that's another story.
Back to 8.30 this morning. Lyddie was standing at the top of the stairs, repeatedly shouting, "Mom! Mom! I found some yellow paint in the storeroom! We can paint my room yellow now!"
So I think to myself: "Aargh, she really thinks we can. Her room is total chaos, I haven't even had a cup of tea. There's no way I'm getting out a paintbrush today or even this month, but she isn't going to understand why not." But I say nothing and carry on washing up, hoping she'll get distracted with something else. Just waiting to see what will come next.
She didn't get distracted, she just carried on shouting the same thing and eventually, stress-o-meter rising I went to the bottom of the stairs and said, "Can we talk about this downstairs instead of waking Ali and Zara up?" To her credit, she did come down.
Then she said, "Go up and get the paint, and then we can paint my room! I've decided I want it painting yellow, but I can't carry the paint pot down. It's too heavy."
"Well I've got all this washing-up to do," I protested.
"Well, you do the washing up and I'll do the painting."
We didn't get the paint down. I took her by the hand into her huge room full of all the thousands of things she owns strewn around all over the place and asked her how we were even going to reach the walls to paint them.
"OK then," she sighed. "I'll wait until you've tidied up."
posted by Gill at 9:43 AM 2 comments
Half past eight this morning, Ali and Zara still asleep, me stuck in the middle of a huge pile of washing-up, determined to clear the chaos that had ensued due to a housework-free indulgence day yesterday, before I even had a cup of tea. Of course, yesterday was the day my posh neighbour chose to make her first impromptu visit in the 8.5 years since we moved here, when I hadn't vacced the stairs carpet for a fortnight and the place looked like a slum, but that's another story.
Back to 8.30 this morning. Lyddie was standing at the top of the stairs, repeatedly shouting, "Mom! Mom! I found some yellow paint in the storeroom! We can paint my room yellow now!"
So I think to myself: "Aargh, she really thinks we can. Her room is total chaos, I haven't even had a cup of tea. There's no way I'm getting out a paintbrush today or even this month, but she isn't going to understand why not." But I say nothing and carry on washing up, hoping she'll get distracted with something else. Just waiting to see what will come next.
She didn't get distracted, she just carried on shouting the same thing and eventually, stress-o-meter rising I went to the bottom of the stairs and said, "Can we talk about this downstairs instead of waking Ali and Zara up?" To her credit, she did come down.
Then she said, "Go up and get the paint, and then we can paint my room! I've decided I want it painting yellow, but I can't carry the paint pot down. It's too heavy."
"Well I've got all this washing-up to do," I protested.
"Well, you do the washing up and I'll do the painting."
We didn't get the paint down. I took her by the hand into her huge room full of all the thousands of things she owns strewn around all over the place and asked her how we were even going to reach the walls to paint them.
"OK then," she sighed. "I'll wait until you've tidied up."
posted by Gill at 9:43 AM 2 comments
posted by Gill at 10:42 am
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