The other morning I came down quite early. By quite early, I mean obviously all the kids were up. It’s wasn’t pre 6am or anything but it was before 7. The morning normally sees the boy shut away in his room watching telly (Jaws III that morning), while the younger two are in the sitting room arguing about something. The argument changes on a daily basis, it might be “No, we’re not watching more Annoying Orange videos”, it might be “you cannot have the last of the fruit loaf, it’s the only thing in the universe I’ve ever wanted”, or it might just be about who gets to sit where on the sofas.
For reference, there are two sofas and an armchair in our lounge, the sofas can seat 5 adults, the armchair the owner of a pair of arms.
There should be no trouble with two small children.
Still, on that fateful morning things were quieter than usual. Being of a pessimistic nature, I thought this didn’t bode well. Sticking my head round the living room door, I saw Fifi on her own. As I went in to the kitchen, I saw movement in the playroom (our converted attached garage). Walking in to investigate, I saw Ned sitting on the sofa in there in the dark. In the dark, with the television off.
I was of course immediately worried because the television was off and something else? Oh yes, he was in the dark.
Are you okay? I asked
Mmm. came the plaintive reply.
Has Fifi been mean to you?
Would you like a cuddle?
At this point Ned pulled the throw over his head, so I lent in to give him a cuddle. He returned the cuddle one handed, which I thought was a little odd but probably due to the ever present teddy in the other hand. As I got in closer though I could hear him chewing.
Are you? Are you eating Mummy’s special chocolate biscuits?
Devious little so and so…