Hey there 🙂
When I started prepping for this post, I was a happy girlie. I had managed to have a bit of a lie in while the kids played; had supervised the filling in of a worksheet Eldest’s teacher had sent home for him with another pupil; had fed the boys a filling breakfast and lunch; taken the boys out to play on their scooters and then with the outside toys (including cones to crash the cars into); had chatted with a couple of neighbours; and then given the boys the tablet while I wrote my poem – popping back and forwards to check on them as I perused a few other bloggy-type things like my social media feeds.
I was feeling on top of things. I was going to get my post finished before the kids were in bed, and then get a free hour or two to do a proper clean up before settling with a Kindle book I want to read. I wouldn’t have to turf hubby off the PC as all the finicky bits would be done. (My laptop hates the editor window for this blog. It sucks.)
Look at the nice lot of photos I took:
But no. The fact that I was keeping eyes and ears on my boys regularly – interacting with them while also diligently getting on with my work – was not enough. The little darlings still managed to outfox me. 🙁
I came down (for probably the sixth time in an hour and a half, I had even cleaned Youngest’s bottom in that time) to make dinner, to find Eldest had not only poured milk for him and his brother (who is not supposed to drink much milk) without asking, even though he had declared himself not hungry or thirsty enough for dinner just 15 minutes before, but had also made them toast!!!
Now, there are strict rules in our house that say electricity is dangerous, and hot things are too. For Eldest to have combined these things absolutely horrified me. He has never made toast before, never asked me to let him (although under controlled conditions, come to think of it, it would have been fine) and now he was doing it unsupervised?! With a four year old egging him on?! Eeeeek!!
Thank goodness it was the toaster and not the grill he used, I suppose…
To add insult to (what thankfully did not result in) injury, the boys had then proceeded to sit in the playroom’s carpeted area to eat their spoils. Not up at the table as I repeatedly state they are supposed to. I was beyond livid.
I can usually hear every step that anyone takes in the kitchen, as it is right under the main bedroom (where our PC is), and I am forever foiling their little plans now that they can get round some of the toddler-proofing; but with the tumble dryer rumbling away, and a craftily shut diningroom door, I was out of the game, apparently. I will be using the laptop in the livingroom during the day from now on, when the kids are about :-/
I feel so awful about what could have happened! My poor heart almost failed!
Eldest says Youngest told him to do it, so he had no choice…the mind boggles, pondering what hold the four year old has over the seven year old for the latter to risk the wrath of me?! Needless to say their games on the tablet are in jeopardy, and YouTube is now out of the question for the rest of this week (I can check what they are watching from my phone or the PC as they use my account. Horrid Henry has already been banned this week because Eldest was using some of the ideas in the cartoon for booby traps…)
Anyway, I did get to write a poem earlier, so this will hopefully still be published before midnight…
Friendless Pony Attribute Genuine Domination Baffling Architect Beginning Loop
I can’t remember truly being friendless,
But I have felt lonely many times.
I world-reject a bit.
I wasn’t ever one who wanted a pony
Or any real responsibility –
I liked being able to slip away
(But maybe I just grew into that
After I started school?
It is not an attribute my innate four year old self
Showed, I don’t think)
I try to be genuine
Actually, most of the time:
I. Can’t. Help. It.
I’m not out for world domination
(I find this baffling)
But I can contribute
Too much to a conversation…!
(Then act as architect, and queen)
I don’t quite know where the lonliness came from;
Was it the bullying?
Or the hormones?
Or the social pressure I imbibed,
That told me intense was unsafe?
Somewhere along the way
I clothed myself
In a pattern of despair.
A repetitive act, but
The first day’s forgotten.
But then: every knitted article
Has just one beginning loop…
Scribbly, wibbly, pencily…stuff.
It is funny what my brain comes up with when I read my words. Again I got the last two lines in my head (and on the notebook) and worked up to it with ‘friendless’ as my second starting point.
Do you feel lonely around other people? Can you pinpoint why that is, or when you first became aware of the feeling?
Feel free to come chat to me in the comments.
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