Tuesday, 1 October 2013

Burnt toast

I'm normally the first one to sing the praises of holidays, but family time only works if you all like each other and Nate isn't a fan of Jude at the moment. That's not exactly true. He loves him - as long as he isn't playing with his toys, Willow's toys, making noise or moving about too much. I should say, Nate likes the idea of Jude more than he actually likes Jude. At first I thought it might be some kind of sensory issue because of his autism. I now think he's just being a bossy bastard.

Today I found the solution to the problem. In a fit of desperation and a little rage, I decided that the boys would now share a room. Forcing them together like cell mates will surely bring them together and bonding time should naturally follow. At the very least a joint hatred of me for putting them both in this situation.

The lads better enjoy sharing *shakes angry fist*

So that would be excitement enough for one day - mad Mum on a rampage - but no. While we were busy Nate decided to make himself some toast. It went on fire. I didn't know bread was flammable but it is. The smoke was so thick I was choking on it while getting the kids out of the house. It hasn't deterred him, not in the slightest. He snuck back inside while it was still smoky to make some more. Plugged the burnt toaster back in and everything.

The aftermath.
I have to survive another week and a half of this. I can feel the wrinkles deepening and the grey hairs sprouting by the hour. I'm pretty tempted to book up a trip on the credit card just so I can get away, but I think it's frowned upon to leave three children unsupervised. Stupid rules!