Sunday sunday…

Posted by dulwichmum on Mon 2 April 2007

Yesterday morning, James announced that he “simply must” go into the office! Well, I cannot claim for one minute that I am not influenced by the comments I receive on this blog, and as NumberOneScumMum so kindly pointed out recently: James is off doing “God knows what” at work for most of his waking hours, so I just had to take action…

I suggested that James should take Max with him to work. Well, Sunday is meant to be a family day, a day of rest. The children are on their school holidays, and have the expectation of spending time with their parents after all.

We have some super high flying neighbours, Melissa and Timothy. Their older son Christoph left Dulwich College only last summer with wonderful A level results and has not raised a finger since. A gap year is all very well and good, but this boy will not even answer the door to the dog walker or the cleaner. Melissa has left her spare set of keys with our au pair Ana, Christoph is a disgrace!

If Melissa and Timothy are not careful, Christoph’s gap year may turn into a gap life. Everything is handed to their golden boy on a plate; a car, snow boarding, tropical holidays, designer clothes and a generous allowance.

I have expressed my concerns to James about his wish to retire imminently – should his wonderful current dream deal come off. What kind of male role model will the children have? They could grow up – the equivalent of children with a father on welfare, seeing their father loll about the home all day, drawing money from the hole in the wall.

James will tell me he is building a pigeon loft in the back garden next. OVERMYDEADBODY!!! How can he just stop earning a living at forty. Surely he can never have earned enough money to retire? He was not shopping with me in Regent Street yesterday – I got the most amazing blouse from Jaeger’s window.

If James does not work, why should I?

“Take The Boy Wonder to work with you while you still can”, I pleaded.

My darling Max tells me everything that goes on during his day – every evening. He is a shy and gentle boy by nature, but while eating supper each evening, my perfect son gives me every delicious detail of the day, breath by breath.

James was by all accounts working at his office today. One of only four men in the entire building, he really is the man of my dreams.

I was just making sure…

I took Freya to Hamleys to buy Barbie and her incontinent cat. Now Freya has two Barbies, and my son is preoccupied with the bodily functions of both of the dolls’ domestic pets.

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 Dingle Dangle Scarecrow

Posted by dulwichmum on Sun 1 April 2007

My baby boy is a baby no more. I am beside myself with grief!

I began to sing the munchkins’ their favourite song today…, to no response! Normally by the time I get to;

“with a flippy floppy hat”,

my darling babies are jumping about doing the actions with all of the energy of the cast of Rainbow (remember them?) on speed! Instead, my young man stared at me with a look of complete disgust. Indeed, he was practically sporting a mono brow!

‘I’m a big boy now mummy, please stop the silly song singing’.

OHMYGOD…

“Silly song singing”?

It was his “very best favourite” song only last week! What is going on?

NO, NO, NO! My baby Max is now gone forever…

I noticed recently his little sausage like fingers have slimmed down, he has lost the baby fat around his wrists, those sweet chunky bracelets are no more.

I am bereft. I suppose I should have realised that this was day was coming. Freya was given a Barbie doll by Liliana (our cleaner) for her birthday. Would you believe the dreadful plastic stick insect doll came complete with a pooing pooch? It is so unbelievably dreadful I can almost not bear to describe its horrors.

The Labrador type dog Tanner, opens his mouth and eats a small brown dog biscuit, which it then passes as a poo! And then, once again he gets fed the same dog biscuit… In the name of God and all of his Angels and Saints – you could not make this up!

When the doll was unwrapped, Max made off with the dog and biscuits, he has been fascinated with it’s functions all afternoon on the living room floor. In goes the dog biscuit, out comes the poo!

Max tells no end of bottom jokes, and his constant talk of poo has meant that my poor mother has not been brought into his company for the last two weeks. Her sensibilities would be so offended. She would probably have the little lamb exorcised.

According to the literature this is; “all part of normal development”. Soon my baby will be a man. He is growing up!

I wonder if he will still respond to the old favourite song: ‘Sleeping bunnies’?…

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