On the way home from work, (and I live only 5 minutes drive from my work) my phone rang. It was my eldest son (13 and full of new supervisory responsibilities) calling to see if I was nearly home….it’s school holidays…this is a different version of ‘are we there yet?’…‘are you here yet?’. I inquired if everything was alright and my eldest explained that he had been very busy, because Milo had been inside all day and had “crapped a pile, like, the size of a small animal” by the door before anyone noticed he needed to go out. Seeing he had crapped a pile the size of a small animal (Sorry, we’re all class on this blog!) I suggested he may have been waiting very desperately for someone to accompany him outside. Eldest son agreed that probably was the case, but he had been busy keeping his siblings from inflicting physical torture on each other. The sweetner, he said, was that he had cleaned said crap pile up, and hoped that I would be home soon.
Despite the voice in my head telling me to flee now, I arrived home to find the front door wide open and the family room tiles under two centimetres of water. Bless him, he had mopped. After settling in, I sat to peruse my blogfriends’ blogs and was presently assaulted by the annoying noise of a blowfly vibrating against the window. “Abbey, could you shut the door, the blowies are getting in!” I yelled out to my daughter in the next room. Back to perusing…. BuzzzzzzBUZZZZZZZBuzzzzzzzzzzzz Four more blowies joined their suicidal pal, knocking himself out noisily next to me.
“Abbs!!! The door!!”
Seriously, the noise of blowflies eats away your nerves and your brain.
“ABBEY, there’s blowflies in here! Who’s got a door open!???” I yelled again, to which my daughter answers without once taking her eyes from the television:
“I left the door open so they would fly out!”
I could see the logic. Kind of.
But not to worry, Middle child to the rescue, with recycled jam jar. And three minutes later he shows me a glass jar with thirteen blowies bouncing around inside.
“Well done, mate,” I said. “You gonna throw them in the bin?”
“I don’t think I want to know, do I?”
Middle child considered this before answering:
“Probably not….but look at the bright side, Mum, at least I’m not going brain dead in front of the television!”
The kid has a point.