The Sprog is upset with out cleaner. Her sin?
She has tidied his room! How dare she! Now he can't find anything... apparently. Although to be honest how the cleaner found her way into his room is beyond me, I could barely see the floor!
Out cleaner is lovely, barking mad but lovely. She is Turkish and as regular readers know has a love for popular european music. This has rubbed off onto our youngest and TJ now insists that we play the latest hit 'tune's and wants to know what the number one song is on a daily basis.
I don't mind but whenever he plays one of the latest tracks from the hit parade I immediately turn into my parents and go on about what rubbish this is. The Sprog on the other hand has rifled through my CD collection and has 'borrowed' all my Michael Jackson albums. And this was the root of his problem with the cleaner as she had tidied the albums up and put them back where they belong, on my CD shelf.
Still I prefer him listening to MJ than having to listen to 1D (as I now call them- see I'm down with the kids!).
I also seemed to channel my parents this morning when TJ decided he really didn't want to hurry to school. He dawdled, he played with his feet, he carefully munched on every single sodding cornflake as I got more and more harrassed. Didn't he know we were going to be late.
As we finally headed out the door he stopped and said, "Daddy, I need a poo!"
"What?!" I screamed - "Why now, why wait until we are leaving?"
"I don't know," he shrugged.
So I stood outside the bathroom door hurrying him along.
He eventually came out and we left for school. Except he fancied a long slow walk admiring the trees and commenting on the lovely day as I was screaming "Come on!" and dragging an unwilling dog behind me.
We got to the school gate just as they closed.
"Great," I said, "Now we have to walk all the way round to the front of the school and I have to sign you in at reception with all the other 'shamed' parents."
Did TJ care... no he did not. "What will they do if I am late?" he said, "They won't do anything." and off he dawdled.
As he did so the gate keeper saw us and returned to open the gate. "You are lucky," she said to TJ, "I saw you just in time."
TJ skipped into school.
"Isn't there an incentive to get them in on time," I asked "Don't they get a punishment if they are late?"
"No," she said, "So many of them are late now we'd be filling out forms all day." and she walked off.
Now I turned into my Dad who hated being late - how will future generations like my own kids understand about punctuality if no-one teaches it at school? No wonder TJ doesn't give a monkey's if he is late or not - why should he? As I said to Papa when he called later - "There should be no reason for him to have to get up at 5am and make the 90 minute commute into London - he should go when he feels like it... Oh wait, except he'd get fired!"
Now I shall have a cup of tea and piece of delicious banana bread - made by me!
She has tidied his room! How dare she! Now he can't find anything... apparently. Although to be honest how the cleaner found her way into his room is beyond me, I could barely see the floor!
Out cleaner is lovely, barking mad but lovely. She is Turkish and as regular readers know has a love for popular european music. This has rubbed off onto our youngest and TJ now insists that we play the latest hit 'tune's and wants to know what the number one song is on a daily basis.
I don't mind but whenever he plays one of the latest tracks from the hit parade I immediately turn into my parents and go on about what rubbish this is. The Sprog on the other hand has rifled through my CD collection and has 'borrowed' all my Michael Jackson albums. And this was the root of his problem with the cleaner as she had tidied the albums up and put them back where they belong, on my CD shelf.
Still I prefer him listening to MJ than having to listen to 1D (as I now call them- see I'm down with the kids!).
I also seemed to channel my parents this morning when TJ decided he really didn't want to hurry to school. He dawdled, he played with his feet, he carefully munched on every single sodding cornflake as I got more and more harrassed. Didn't he know we were going to be late.
As we finally headed out the door he stopped and said, "Daddy, I need a poo!"
"What?!" I screamed - "Why now, why wait until we are leaving?"
"I don't know," he shrugged.
So I stood outside the bathroom door hurrying him along.
He eventually came out and we left for school. Except he fancied a long slow walk admiring the trees and commenting on the lovely day as I was screaming "Come on!" and dragging an unwilling dog behind me.
We got to the school gate just as they closed.
"Great," I said, "Now we have to walk all the way round to the front of the school and I have to sign you in at reception with all the other 'shamed' parents."
Did TJ care... no he did not. "What will they do if I am late?" he said, "They won't do anything." and off he dawdled.
As he did so the gate keeper saw us and returned to open the gate. "You are lucky," she said to TJ, "I saw you just in time."
TJ skipped into school.
"Isn't there an incentive to get them in on time," I asked "Don't they get a punishment if they are late?"
"No," she said, "So many of them are late now we'd be filling out forms all day." and she walked off.
Now I turned into my Dad who hated being late - how will future generations like my own kids understand about punctuality if no-one teaches it at school? No wonder TJ doesn't give a monkey's if he is late or not - why should he? As I said to Papa when he called later - "There should be no reason for him to have to get up at 5am and make the 90 minute commute into London - he should go when he feels like it... Oh wait, except he'd get fired!"
Now I shall have a cup of tea and piece of delicious banana bread - made by me!
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