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And life is complete because we have....
MR POTATO HEAD.
Just what every mother of 3 little boys needs, just the one though, one toy with 3298 pieces and one body, 3 little boys who all want to stick the same body part into the only actual one body bit. Only someone with no children or just one child or several children but infinite patience, or a real hatred for the parents of the recipient of this toy, would ever buy a MR POTATO HEAD. It is the devils own toy, I loathe it. If I had bought it ( which I never would, because BITS... lots of bloody BITS people) I would have thrown it away by now.
I am seriously planning next christmas, all toys with bits will be banned, I think we will have books and maybe DVDs of the unable to move because they are so gripping variety.
We won't have chocolate or sweets or pop or anything that will induce sugar crazed lunacy when the weather is so vile that we are trapped inside with said 3 boys.
If any of the old people are sick next year I think we won't have christmas at all, I think we will hide and close all curtains and drink cough medicine that promises to cause drowsiness.
If I am forced to watch one more documentary on the Galapogas islands I will cause serious damage to something or someone, coming close second to nature documentaries are the seemingly endless Wallace and Grommet cartoons, whilst mildly entertaining for about 46 seconds, 2 hours every afternoon is not doing anything to cheer my mood. Especially after 3 hours of seabirds and seals or sea lions-- and you would think I would know which is which by now, having been subjected to so many hours of these mindless droning-voice documentaries wouldn't you.....my brain is numb, it can't take in any facts other than it has had enough and can it be over now please?
I am drawn to an hour of wellies on and stamp in some puddles any minute now because these kids need outside, they need to yell and not be yelled at, they need to make a mess outside and feel this is a GOOD thing, other than witness their aged mother having the vapours at the sight of MR POTATO HEAD's guts being spilled over the coffee table in fight number 432 of the day.
What possessed me to think that the biggest tool box in the world filled with every kind of marker, crayon, pencil, pen, eraser, gel pen, sharpener was a cool idea? Did I mistakenly think that these children would spend many a peaceful hour doing splendid pictures to be hung on fridge and wall? Why did I not see that the pens would be great missiles? The markers used to scribble on laptops, of course no-one knows how to put the lids back on the markers and I have gone from frantically trying to replace lids to simply throwing the damn pens away and its only 5 days since that glorious gift was given.
Of course H has been trying to whisper that maybe they had too much, that there was a reason why he hid half of it , maybe next year......he is trying, but I am ignoring because I don't want to hear him, I might have to hurt him if I hear him and the email that explained about childrens' expectations at christmas and how gifts of a thoughtful nature are best .....arseholes. Christmas is about fun when you are 3, 5 , 6, 17, 19..be darned if I am writing a promise note for a future game of scrabble to my kids.
I missed my dad. I missed the pantomime, I missed the normal feeling of wonder this year. It's been an interminably long week. That isn't over yet.
*SIGH*
Just what every mother of 3 little boys needs, just the one though, one toy with 3298 pieces and one body, 3 little boys who all want to stick the same body part into the only actual one body bit. Only someone with no children or just one child or several children but infinite patience, or a real hatred for the parents of the recipient of this toy, would ever buy a MR POTATO HEAD. It is the devils own toy, I loathe it. If I had bought it ( which I never would, because BITS... lots of bloody BITS people) I would have thrown it away by now.
I am seriously planning next christmas, all toys with bits will be banned, I think we will have books and maybe DVDs of the unable to move because they are so gripping variety.
We won't have chocolate or sweets or pop or anything that will induce sugar crazed lunacy when the weather is so vile that we are trapped inside with said 3 boys.
If any of the old people are sick next year I think we won't have christmas at all, I think we will hide and close all curtains and drink cough medicine that promises to cause drowsiness.
If I am forced to watch one more documentary on the Galapogas islands I will cause serious damage to something or someone, coming close second to nature documentaries are the seemingly endless Wallace and Grommet cartoons, whilst mildly entertaining for about 46 seconds, 2 hours every afternoon is not doing anything to cheer my mood. Especially after 3 hours of seabirds and seals or sea lions-- and you would think I would know which is which by now, having been subjected to so many hours of these mindless droning-voice documentaries wouldn't you.....my brain is numb, it can't take in any facts other than it has had enough and can it be over now please?
I am drawn to an hour of wellies on and stamp in some puddles any minute now because these kids need outside, they need to yell and not be yelled at, they need to make a mess outside and feel this is a GOOD thing, other than witness their aged mother having the vapours at the sight of MR POTATO HEAD's guts being spilled over the coffee table in fight number 432 of the day.
What possessed me to think that the biggest tool box in the world filled with every kind of marker, crayon, pencil, pen, eraser, gel pen, sharpener was a cool idea? Did I mistakenly think that these children would spend many a peaceful hour doing splendid pictures to be hung on fridge and wall? Why did I not see that the pens would be great missiles? The markers used to scribble on laptops, of course no-one knows how to put the lids back on the markers and I have gone from frantically trying to replace lids to simply throwing the damn pens away and its only 5 days since that glorious gift was given.
Of course H has been trying to whisper that maybe they had too much, that there was a reason why he hid half of it , maybe next year......he is trying, but I am ignoring because I don't want to hear him, I might have to hurt him if I hear him and the email that explained about childrens' expectations at christmas and how gifts of a thoughtful nature are best .....arseholes. Christmas is about fun when you are 3, 5 , 6, 17, 19..be darned if I am writing a promise note for a future game of scrabble to my kids.
I missed my dad. I missed the pantomime, I missed the normal feeling of wonder this year. It's been an interminably long week. That isn't over yet.
*SIGH*
posted by The other me | 9:52 am
2 Comments:
Oh I so hear you. I do. It's a cruel twist of fate that we're stuck with the little monsters for a whole week and half after Xmas before school starts again.. cruel cruel fate.
BTW we got rid of Mr Potato Head in the summer (and I had 3 of them).
Hugs
Julie
Hopefully it will all settle down soon Helen. Zachary is already back to hauling out old stuff! And he lost his two new games for his L-Max. Ugh!
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