Hello everyone!
Hope everyone is enjoying the glorious sunshine. Actually scratch that, I hope everyone is inside on their laptops enjoying my blog.
Today's tale of hilarity focuses on an issue that I expect all parents have to go through; at what point is your child capable of dressing themselves?
When I was a wee squirt just starting primary school, my mum decided that it was time for me to start dressing myself. The first few days went without a hitch, I was fully dressed for school and proud of my garment assembling achievements. However, after a few weeks went by, it seems I had a little set back. I was in school assembly one afternoon, singing my little heart out to "All things bright and beautiful", legs crossed, as was the norm back then. My father was holding the assembly (he was headmaster of my primary school at the time) and at the end was discreetly informed by another teacher that his daughter did not appear to be wearing any pants. Awkward.
Luckily there were lots of pants on stand by for those anxious children who couldn't hold it in 'til break time, so I was taken by the hand and assisted into a pair of pants. My mum still finds it bizarre to this day that after weeks of dressing myself perfectly, I forgot to put my pants on. I like to think it was a conscious decision on my part; I was making a statement, speaking out against the lack of freedom for our bits and bums, constantly tucked away and restricted in underwear and the like. I have to admit though, the likelihood is, I just forgot.
I am rather pleased my parents chose not to tell me this story until I was grown up, as I would probably have been too mortified to show my face in front of the teacher who noticed my lack of underwear ever again.
So, the moral of this story is, always check your child is wearing pants before they leave the house. And after that, check you have remembered yourself.
Monday 28 May 2012
Thursday 10 May 2012
Drowsy Driving Fail
Hello again.
It's me, the funny blog lady. My car wouldn't start this morning (dead battery) and it occurred to me that perhaps it is rebelling against me and my occasionally dodgy driving ways. Today's story may explain why dear Maximus quakes in fear whenever I get into the driver's seat and start the engine...
As some of you know I used to be a carer, and this job involved getting up at the crack of dawn most days (6am usually - especially painful in winter). Now I would not say I am the best morning person. I am one of those people who wanders round the house, bleary eyed and unable to form a sentence or change facial expression until I've had a cup of tea and time to recover from my slumberous state. This particular, bitter cold, February day was no exception. Waking at the harsh, uncaring trill of the alarm, my heart sank, knowing soon I would have to get out of my warm, cosy bed haven and into the cold, dark world. I munched my breakfast, slumped on the sofa. I put on my uniform. I tied my hair up and put my contact lenses in, as best one can when their eyes are 90% closed. And I wandered outside to get into my car. Now, our drive is complicated as we have four cars; normally two are in the garage and two side by side on the drive. This time, I noticed that dad's car was next to mine on the drive, as usual, but my sister's car was parked at an angle behind my dad's car, presumably she had come home too tired to bother getting it in the garage. Some small, almost awake part of my brain let out a tiny, faded glow of light, almost registering that I should be careful when reversing not to catch it. Almost.
I got into Maximus. I turned the heater up to full, shivering. As I started to reverse back, (without looking in my side mirrors) I was just trying to remember whether my ID card was in my pocket or not, when...
SCRAAAAAPE.
Oh no.
I got out, waking up abruptly. That had been quite an ugly noise. I felt along my sister's car worriedly. Yep, sure enough, I had scratched my sister's car. It was still too dark to see the extent of the damage yet. Pants. After standing in the cold for a couple of minutes, flailing, I decided, being the grown up, responsible adult that I am, that the best thing to do was to drive away and text my sister the bad news when I was far, far away.
Luckily for me, my sister had a rainbow of scratches already on her car and said she couldn't tell which one I had done, so she let me off. As for my Maximus, he has a fresh new dint in him, with a few red specks wedged in there that had been peeled off my sister's car. Oops.
What I learnt from this experience, which I hope will help you all in life too, is that operating a vehicle, or heavy machinery, is not advised whilst still half asleep. However, if you are going to attempt it, park it near a car that is already scratched, and maybe the owner won't notice the difference.
Have a good day everyone, and careful driving.
Kind regards,
Your loving squid.
It's me, the funny blog lady. My car wouldn't start this morning (dead battery) and it occurred to me that perhaps it is rebelling against me and my occasionally dodgy driving ways. Today's story may explain why dear Maximus quakes in fear whenever I get into the driver's seat and start the engine...
As some of you know I used to be a carer, and this job involved getting up at the crack of dawn most days (6am usually - especially painful in winter). Now I would not say I am the best morning person. I am one of those people who wanders round the house, bleary eyed and unable to form a sentence or change facial expression until I've had a cup of tea and time to recover from my slumberous state. This particular, bitter cold, February day was no exception. Waking at the harsh, uncaring trill of the alarm, my heart sank, knowing soon I would have to get out of my warm, cosy bed haven and into the cold, dark world. I munched my breakfast, slumped on the sofa. I put on my uniform. I tied my hair up and put my contact lenses in, as best one can when their eyes are 90% closed. And I wandered outside to get into my car. Now, our drive is complicated as we have four cars; normally two are in the garage and two side by side on the drive. This time, I noticed that dad's car was next to mine on the drive, as usual, but my sister's car was parked at an angle behind my dad's car, presumably she had come home too tired to bother getting it in the garage. Some small, almost awake part of my brain let out a tiny, faded glow of light, almost registering that I should be careful when reversing not to catch it. Almost.
I got into Maximus. I turned the heater up to full, shivering. As I started to reverse back, (without looking in my side mirrors) I was just trying to remember whether my ID card was in my pocket or not, when...
SCRAAAAAPE.
Oh no.
I got out, waking up abruptly. That had been quite an ugly noise. I felt along my sister's car worriedly. Yep, sure enough, I had scratched my sister's car. It was still too dark to see the extent of the damage yet. Pants. After standing in the cold for a couple of minutes, flailing, I decided, being the grown up, responsible adult that I am, that the best thing to do was to drive away and text my sister the bad news when I was far, far away.
Luckily for me, my sister had a rainbow of scratches already on her car and said she couldn't tell which one I had done, so she let me off. As for my Maximus, he has a fresh new dint in him, with a few red specks wedged in there that had been peeled off my sister's car. Oops.
What I learnt from this experience, which I hope will help you all in life too, is that operating a vehicle, or heavy machinery, is not advised whilst still half asleep. However, if you are going to attempt it, park it near a car that is already scratched, and maybe the owner won't notice the difference.
Have a good day everyone, and careful driving.
Kind regards,
Your loving squid.
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