The week from hell continues

Yesterday was the day of the kids’ problems.
In order of children:

1. My oldest son (12 years old) came home bruised and battered after being picked on by a couple of kids in his class. I would say “bullying” because that’s what it was, only he’s much bigger than them and has an orange belt in a pretty lethal form of combat training.
Why didn’t he use it? Well, he says he’s because he doesn’t want to hurt people smaller than him. “So that gives them the right to beat you up does it?” I said. He’s thinking about that.
In the meantime, we are in negotiations with his Housemaster, who is a very powerful wizard, and will no doubt sort it all out by turning the offending students into small green toads with a flick of his wand. (You’ve seen the Harry Potter movies, his school is just like Hogwarts, I swear. Hogwarts is the great public school stereotype, after all)

2. My middle son is hyperactive. This can largely be controlled by excluding additives and sugar from his diet. Unfortunately he had too many chocolate rolls at school and literally climbed the walls yesterday evening when he got home. He gave Spiderman a run for his money. Maybe these chocolate rolls actually react with the body by producing little suckers on hands and feet so they can stick to the walls. I don’t know. Either way, our walls and paintwork will never be the same again, and the stair banisters are in severe danger of collapse (His father doesn’t know this because he was hiding in another room, blowing things up on his computer…sorry to break the news to you on the blog Rich, but it’s probably just as well…)


3. My 3 year old daughter had her second-ever-session at nursery yesterday. This time she only screamed for half the morning. The nursery staff didn’t call me. No, no, that would be admitting defeat. Instead they left her unattended to cry in a little heap in the corner for two hours. I arrived to pick her up and found a small, pathetic and desolate sobbing creature in the corner, who cried for several hours even after I brought her home. Today I sent in a letter, cancelling her nursery place.


Tonight I have a photographically barren evening at the world’s most boring accountancy lecture on “How to be a Financial Director”. Kinda like trying to teach Grandma how to suck eggs. If I don’t know after 12 years of being one, I’m never going to know. I intend to sleep through most of it, largely because I didn’t get any last night (sleep I mean) due to a small three year old child having separation anxiety hysterics, and yelling for her green teletubby and her Mama at 2 a.m, 3 a.m., 4 a.m. etc. So I really wish I didn’t have to go tonight, but it’s compulsory so….you never know, I might learn more about what I’m actually SUPPOSED to be doing in my day job, as opposed to what I’m actually doing (writing this and browsing the photography blogs)

Richard thinks that all 40 year old Financial Directors should be made by law to wear red latex catsuits.

Hmm…..