Well, having read the comments on my last post it is clear that my readers are a great deal wittier (and stranger) than I am. And more versed in the ways of defeating sentient pulses on the warpath. Good to know.
On Saturday I took my life in my hands and visited not one but two toy shops. Second Born was going to a party (and then on to his friend's house for tea) so needed a present to take with him. First Born had birthday money burning a hole in his pocket, or rather his fingers as he kept wandering around with the cold, hard cash in his hand as if unable to believe his luck unless he kept the notes where he could touch them. He wanted to go and buy some serious Lego. But of course, he did not want to buy it in the shop where we were going to get SB's party gift. Oh no, that would be too simple.
So, after the ritual of breakfast, haranguing the boys into getting dressed and then sending them back upstairs again to get dressed in something clean this time, I piled both boys into the car and drove to local toy shop number one. A game was purchased and wrapped and SB driven halfway across town to be dropped off at his party. FB and I then turned around and drove to (*deep breath*) Toys R Us. My second least favourite place on Earth (my least favourite being a Katie Mellua concert, obviously). Surprisingly however, FB did not spend an hour and a half ricocheting from one aisle of coloured plastic tat to another, unable to decide what to buy. He picked a Lego set he wanted (I approve of Lego) and then bought one other thing, which was a bit frivolous but not too expensive and hey, it's his money. Can you guess what he bought? Clue: this is how he watched TV last night.
My son the Death Eater. At least he took it off to eat his dinner, other wise things could have got seriously messy.
Today, Sunday, was the first nice day we have had for some time. Husband washed the cars with the "help" of the boys which deteriorated into Husband spraying boys with the pressure washer while they ran around screaming fit to burst. Once they were a bit damp, they threw caution to the wind, filled up a bucket with cold water and spent a happy hour chucking jugfuls of water over themselves and each other. Nothing is as hilarious as pouring freezing cold water down your brother's trousers. Apparently. This is what happens when the temperature in Scotland reaches the heady heights of 7 degrees Celsius.
I spent a satsifying couple of hours pulling a huge amount of rampant plant life out of the garden. There is a particularly invasive creeper sort of plant with pretty yellow flowers which is currently choking the life out of my rosemary bush. I don't know what the yellow flower plant is but I know you can't serve it with lamb and garlic, so it had to go. I filled up the bin and have still more to pull out as well as a very tenacious buddleia which refuses to go every time we try to dig it out. Maybe I should get Isabelle round to give me some advice!
Add to the "gardening" four loads of washing, a huge pot of minted lamb casserole (First Born's favourite meal in the world, he hugged me with joy when he found me cooking it), a roast chicken and a batch of double chocolate chip cookies and it's been quite a productive day. Oh and we also discovered yesterday that the cat was not, as we thought off her food. She had been shunning the food we put down for her because it was in fact dog food! In my defence, when I bought the catfood in Sainsbury's, at the checkout we noticed the tray of tins was damaged and leaking. One of the staff went off to get a replacement for me and obviously picked up dog food instead! And we didn't notice because, well the tins look the same if you don't look too closely.
So we had to buy poor Schieffer some really nice food to make up for the affront of offering her dog food - I'm sure that's a real insult in the cat world!
Off now to have a cup of tea and one of my own cookies before the boys eat them all.