Tattie Weasle

Feelgood Monday - What Better Way To Start The Week... #3

2012-02-13T15:18:00.001Z

Got myself in a grumpy hole lately but this took me right out of it!

Hope it puts a smile on your face too!

There are no flies on our children!

A little girl was talking to her teacher about whales.

The teacher said it was physically impossible for a whale to swallow a human because even though it was a very large mammal its throat was very small.
The little girl stated that Jonah was swallowed by a whale.
Irritated, the teacher reiterated that a whale could not swallow a human; it was physically impossible.
The little girl said, 'When I get to heaven I will ask Jonah'.
The teacher asked, 'What if Jonah went to hell?'
The little girl replied, 'Then you ask him'

A Kindergarten teacher was observing her classroom of children while they were drawing. She would occasionally walk around to see each child's work.
As she got to one little girl who was working diligently, she asked what the drawing was.
The girl replied, 'I'm drawing God.'
The teacher paused and said, 'But no one knows what God looks like.'
Without missing a beat, or looking up from her drawing, the girl replied, 'They will in a minute.'

A Sunday school teacher was discussing the Ten Commandments with her five and six year olds.
After explaining the commandment to 'honour' thy Father and thy Mother, she asked, 'Is there a commandment that teaches us how to treat our brothers and sisters?'
From the back, one little boy (the oldest of a family) answered, 'Thou shall not kill.'

One day a little girl was sitting and watching her mother do the dishes at the kitchen sink. She suddenly noticed that her mother had several strands of white hair sticking out in contrast on her brunette head.
She looked at her mother and inquisitively asked, 'Why are some of your hairs white, Mum?'
Her mother replied, 'Well, every time that you do something wrong and make me cry or unhappy, one of my hairs turns white.'
The little girl thought about this revelation for a while and then said, 'Mummy, how come ALL of grandma's hairs are white?'

Dear PR, I would just like to say...

2012-02-12T22:24:00.000Z

I don't talk much about my job. Mostly I try not to as I like to keep things separate but today I just have to. Today it really dawned on me why I hate bad PRs.
Actually she may be a good PR who got something wrong but I'd be giving her a HUGE benefit of the doubt. And I just don't feel like it.
Well anyway, I have a job where I write a lot fairly dry things but it pays and I am not complaining. It's business to business stuff.
Every year I help collate a directory. The information in the directopry is comprehensive adn detailed. It is editorially led and as such no one can buy their way in. Over the years it has become a bit of an industry bible. And since I was the one to nurture it back in the days when I worked full time, I still think of the directoy as my baby. In fact I was working on it until 1 o'clock in the morning a mere five hours before I was due to be in hospital to give birth to Bog Boy. I take it that seriously.
Anyway, last year there was a cock-up with one of the contributors, so this year I decided to not let anything go amiss and I would do the directory by the book.
As is polite and to avoid misunderstandings I very sweetly decided to go through a PR for one particular company. I was assured that everything would be perfectly alright.
Well of course it is not.
The PR's excuse for no one getting back to me and for not chasing it up was that the people who work at the company don't get back to her very often and she cannot make them.
Hellooooo!!!!!!!
That is what PRs are for to make the client get back to the press.
Seemples
I know it isn't quite that cut and dried. I know because in a dim and distant past I too was a PR.
I know how painful clients are.
BUT...
BUT because this PR has failed to do her job properly, I am going to have to work all through half term, cut short the boy's vist to their grandparents and basically ruin the whole week for them. I will have to reorganise my schedule that of the people who were going to look after the house and so the ripples spread.
Such a pity the PR will never read this...

City Men – Country wives - why don't you get home when you're supposed to?

2012-02-10T20:14:00.000Z

Your wife shouldn’t be in charge of a fire

Your wife should certainly not drive

She’s merrily rolling on two glasses

She’s been abstinent all week

But you’ve just phone d up at 6

You should be on your way home

But you’ve lost track of time

You’re still stuck at work

She says why bother

If you cannot come home early

After a whole week away

What’s the point of the agreement?

You might as well stay in London

If that is all we matter

To you

This was meant to be a solution

A compromise for the best

But it’s as if we don’t exist

And frankly

I will not accept it

You stay with a friend in London

Have meals on demand and a social life

Your wife scrimps and saves

And for what

To be told you’ve got carried away at work

Well that’s just not good enough

She’s been alone all week

No grown-ups to talk to

No let up

Just so that you can earn some money

Well honey

It ain't going to work

If you want her to be faithful and loving

You’ve got to pull something out of a hat

The chances of you seeing this are nothing

So don’t be surprised when you come home and there’s nothing for you but darkness…

This has been written after ¾ a bottle of champagne and a spritzer... I have got to get my kicks somewhere…

A day of rest

2012-02-09T13:53:00.002Z

Today is a day of rest.

To do nothing.

And by doing nothing I am exhausted. But I’m not fighting it, I am embracing it.

I’ve lain on my bed with the dogs in a sophorific heap.

Read my book.

Had a deep, hot languorous bath.

I’ve sat and just stared out the window.

I’m warm and comfortable.

It’s a quiet day.

I’ve ignored the telephone and stopped the clocks.

It’s a little piece of heaven before I have to come back to reality with a bump.

Take a day out sometime.

Slow down.

Do nothing.

And don’t feel guilty about it!

Guests like fish go off after three days....

2012-02-07T20:39:00.000Z

I was caught today muttering at the window and doing a little jig. I was watching my guests drive away and urging them on, while smiling and waving goodbye.
Off you go now.
Bye Bye!
Auf weidersein!
Au revoir!
That's it keep driving, keep on going...yes that's it right out of the gate...
Bugger off now...
Bye Bye!
Bye Bye now...
Bye!
My face ached from smiling so much, that drawn rictus smile as I waved until they were out of sight.
I did think about chasing them down the drive and watching them disappear down the road just to make sure they had really gone but thought that that might be going a little too far.
I mean they might decide to come back thinking that I could not bear to be parted from them.

Some guests are just needy and others are a breeze.
Some make you wonder why you ever invited them in the first place and others you wonder why you don't invite more often.
After four daya nd four nights these guests have left me drained emotionally and physically and I will now need to lay on my bed for at least a week to recover my equilibrium.
As my grandfather used to say: "Guests like fish go off after three days..."

Parental control - a saluatory tale...

2012-02-02T11:12:00.000Z

Sometimes its something they say to show off that makes you realise that it's the end of innocence as you know it.

That’s what it seemed to me last week when my eldest said he had seen sex on the computer. It took me a few seconds to cotton on to what he was saying.

And it shocked me to the core.

My son had obviously seen porn.

On the computer.

He’s only eight years old!

My next reaction, while trying very hard to keep the concern out of my voice so as not to frighten him into silence, was to ascertain where he had found it, why he had found it and what I could do about it.

I tried to concentrate but my mind was working overtime. How had he got on my computer? He couldn’t have done this at home I am always so careful.

But there had been that time when I left him doing Mathletics and he’d gone off to find Moshi Monsters all on his own…was it then?

Good grief was it at school?!

Surely they have people to make sure this kind of thing never happens, surely they must have computer controls?!

Me, trying to sound as if this sort of thing didn’t matter: “Really?”

Him: “Yeah me and a friend typed in S.E.X. and saw a woman and man doing it…”

Me: “What did you think?”

Him, goes red and sniggers: “It was really silly…”

Oh thank god for that.

Me: “So when did you do this? At School?”

Him: “No it was when I went on a playdate…”

Oh thank god for that too at least it’s not on my watch...no this is bad how can I trust him to go on playdates again? This is awful! What sort of parent allows their kids to go on a computer unsupervised…Oh, yes … me. I did.

It’s terrifying how easy it is for children to view porn on computers. You think they are too young and couldn’t possibly be interested. But you forget they are growing up and are curious and want to know more even if it starts out just as a giggle.And the first place they are going to go to find out more is to the internet...

You may keep your computer under lock and key but phones nowadays have access to the web, your kids will have play dates and sleep overs. You cannot monitor them night and day.

Needless to say I told my boy that I never wanted him to do anything like that again and said he was never to go on my computer unless I was with him always and that in the future all computers would be kept downstairs. I also told him he’d not be able to have an iPhone until he was at least 16...in fact I went way over the top.

At least that is what my husband said.

I doubt my boy will ever be as forthcoming again.

My only excuse was that I was shocked and scared and felt that I had failed as a mother, a responsible parent.

My boy he knew it was a naughty thing to do when he and his mate typed in the word in the first place otherwise they wouldn't have waited until they were on their own Problem is he doesn't quite get why yet, he doesn't understand about adult behaviour and why that sort of thing is really bad and it is not something I am going to discuss with him for a while yet.

What I have done is sort out parental computer control and upped my security so that inappropriate websites cannot be accessed from home. I cannot be everywhere I cannot stop it from happening eventually but at least in my home I have done everything I can.

Here's a site I found very helpful, I hope you do too

https://www.thinkuknow.co.uk/parents/Primary/Tools/Parental-controls/

The Most Evil Dog On The Planet Strikes Again And I Have A Moral Dilemma…

2012-01-31T14:56:00.000Z

Most Evil Dog On The Planet enjoying herself in the long grass

I love her.

I do.

I really, really love her.

BUT.

But sometimes she’s just evil.

She’s horrid. She more than lives up to her sobriquet EBJ (Evil Black Job) aka the wickedest whippet in the world. Sometimes she is SO bad she’s the most evil dog on the plant.

Today she was the most evil dog on the planet and I have a problem.

Both she and I had been out running and being that is was cold and I was very tired after my exercise I decided to have a very long, very hot bath.

Sheer bliss.

I trotted downstairs afterwards to have a glass of water and to ready myself for the rest of the day. Work and the like.

I drank my water.

And then I noticed a lovely smell.

Chicken stew.

But it seemed out of place. I hadn’t been cooking any so why could I smell it?

And it dawned on me as I turned to look at the stove that I normally put the lids of the pans on properly, the right way up, not upside-down as this pan lid was.

I approached the pan and noticed a tell-tale blob of chicken jelly on the top of the oven.

I am NOT a messy cook. I DON’T leave blobs of stew on oven hobs.

Somebody…

Somebody had left it there and it couldn’t have been the boys.

I glanced around the kitchen it was strangely devoid of canine inhabitants.

I eased the lid off the stew. The stew that my Darling Husband had spent hours on Sunday, cooking.

Hours and hours slaving away

The one that I was supposed to have carefully put in containers and frozen on Sunday night. The one, which I had every intention of giving my In-Laws on Friday night when they came to stay for the weekend.

I peered inside the pan. There was still stew.

But it had gone down somewhat. There wasn’t as much stock in there as there had been the night before.

Although I cannot say for certain it was her because as usual there is a lack of evidence and I cannot afford a full forensics, my gut tells me it was, that and the fact she is studiously refusing to look me in the eye.

But now I have a problem. Knowing what I know, do I go ahead and put the stew in the container and freeze it and serve it up to my In-Laws on Friday or do I throw the lot away?

And what do I say to my husband who is expecting to see said stew on Friday for supper if I do throw it away? Should I ‘fess up or should I just keep quiet? Or should I just blame the dog?

Feel Good Monday - What better way to start the Week #2

2012-01-30T10:06:00.000Z

I have friends who send me very silly things that make me laugh and on a Monday all I can say is: "What better way to start the week...than with a laugh?!"

Have a good one!

Reported in the Massachusetts Bar Association Lawyers Journal, the following are questions actually asked of witnesses by attorneys during trials and, in certain cases, the responses given by insightful witnesses:

"Now doctor, isn't it true, that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?"

"The youngest son, the twenty-year old, how old is he?"

"Were you present when your picture was taken?"

"Were you alone or by yourself?"

"Was it you or your younger brother who was killed in the war?"

"How far apart were the vehicles at the time of the collision?"

"You were there until the time you left, is that true?"

"How many times have you committed suicide?"

Q: "So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?"

A: "Yes."

Q: "And what were you doing at that time?"

Q: "She had three children, right?"

A: "Yes."

Q: "How many were boys?"

A: "None."

Q: "Were there any girls?"

Q: "You say the stairs went down to the basement?"

A: "Yes."

Q: "And these stairs, did they go up also?"

Q: "Mr. Slatery, you went on a rather elaborate honeymoon, didn't you?

A: "I went to Europe, sir."

Q: "And you took your new wife?"

Q: "How was your first marriage terminated?"

A: "By death."

Q: "And by whose death was it terminated?"

Q: "Can you describe the individual?"

A: "He was about medium height and had a beard."

Q: "Was this a male or female?"

Q: "Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?"

A: "No, this is how I dress when I go to work."

Q: "Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?"

A: "All my autopsies are performed on dead people."

Q: "All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?"

A: "Oral."

Q: "Do you recall the time that you examined the body?"

A: "The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m."

Q: "And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?"

A: "No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy."

Q: "You were not shot in the fracas?"

A: "No, I was shot midway between the fracas and the navel."

Q: "Are you qualified to give a urine sample?"

A: "I have been since early childhood."

Q: "Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?"

A: "No."

Q: "Did you check for blood pressure?"

A: "No."

Q: "Did you check for breathing?"

A: "No."

Q: "So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?"

A: "No."

Q: "How can you be so sure, doctor?"

A: "Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar."

Q: "But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?"

A: "It is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere."

Q: What is your date of birth?

A: July 15th.

Q: What year?

A: Every year.

Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?

A: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.

Q: How old is your son, the one living with you.

A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.

Q: How long has he lived with you?

A: Forty-five years.

Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke that morning?

A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"

Q: And why did that upset you?

A: My name is Susan.

Q: Where was the location of the accident?

A: Approximately milepost 499.

Q: And where is milepost 499?

A: Probably between milepost 498 and 500.

Q: Sir, what is your IQ?

A: Well, I can see pretty well, I think.

Q: Did you blow your horn or anything?

A: After the accident?

Q: Before the accident.

A: Sure, I played for ten years. I even went to school for it.

Q: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in the voodoo or occult?

A: We both do

Q: Voodoo?

A: We do.

Q: You do?

A: Yes, voodoo.

Losing touch...

2012-01-27T12:23:00.001Z

Have you ever thought about all the people you have met in your life? And then realised there are loads whom you used to know but don’t anymore?

It could be for a host of reasons like leaving school, leaving college, leaving home well, leaving anywhere basically, both you and them.

Then there are the people in your life who you mean to contact but just don’t because you get distracted, too busy with work, too busy with children; just too busy.

Full.

Stop.

Or you just drift apart because they have/have not got children, their children are older/younger or not at the same school, and the things that once drew you together now seem all but invisible.

I remember Rob.

When we left college we all exchanged addresses and stuff and then went our separate ways. It was not as if Rob and I had been best buddies at college but we did share a lot, if for no other reason that he came after me alphabetically and we were lab mates for botany and animal husbandry lectures.

I don’t know how it came about but he came to stay the night in my flat in London a few months after we left college in 1986 and as he was leaving, going down the cold stone-like communal stairs he paused holding the black metal bannister and looked back up at me.

I can see him now, in my mind’s eye as I sit here in my sunlit office .

So long ago.

There he is in his big baggy grey ribbed jumper coming down almost to his thighs, scruffy well-worn old jeans and white trainers. His blonde hair tousled like it always was at college, too long a fringe always getting in the way. His face brown from working in the sun, freckled. This country boy full of health and vitality is slightly lost in the big bad city. The city I am adapting to with far too much ease. Long gone are my old jeans and boatmen jumpers. I wear wine coloured nipped-in- tailored suits with cream silk shirts, sheer stockings and black court shoes. My hair is practically neat, my make-up demure and discreet. I am a long way from Devon and Seale Hayne Agricultural College.

He pauses on the half landing and looks up at me and says: “Have a nice life.”

And everything coalesces in that moment and I know it is the point between what has gone before and what has yet to come – the rest of my life.

But I dismiss it; possibly not wanting what he didn’t say to be true.

The subtext of his goodbye was that we would never see each other again.

He was right.

But I say it now; I have never forgotten that moment and I will never forget Rob.

I can’t see us meeting again. I don’t know where Rob lives or what he is doing. But for your information Rob, if you are out there, I am having a very nice life indeed.

And I hope with all my heart that you are too.

Bringing up boys: the write stuff

2012-01-26T12:04:00.000Z

I don’t know about you but it is hard work bringing up boys.

Exhausting.

Knackering.

They are just so difficult to get moving in every way. I am told I should just let them get on with it but if I did that I would still be waiting for them to get dressed at lunchtime and as for tidying up, well I don’t think we should go there.

The other thing I find hard?

Getting them to do homework.

Admittedly The Boy has more than his fair share of problems what with his epilepsy and now his newly diagnosed Dyslexia but the agonies I go through to get him to at least try to settle down and do homework makes me weak.

It is no wonder I hit the bottle at 6pm sharp every night!

Last term after a seriously dismal set of grades whereby it was made plain that The Boy had barely bothered to lift a pencil during school hours I decided there was only one way to go about getting everything better – practice.

He needed to practice his writing.

It was quite clear to me from looking at his effort grades in each subject that as soon as he was asked to pick up a pen and write something he switched off.

I’m not kidding when I say he was developing a phobia about writing.

Now this is a problem for me, I write for a living.

I like writing.

I’m not brilliant at it, but it pays. OK not much. But something nevertheless.

And I blog.

Writing is there for me every day.

So having a son, who can’t write, won’t write; is a problem.

My solution?

FORCE him to write a diary.

That sounds kind of harsh doesn’t it?

But it paid off.

Massively.

I didn’t physically force him to write. I just said he had to write five sentences about his day during the holidays.

Everyday.

First thing after breakfast come hell or high water or else no treats. No TV. No Riding. No DS. No …. Well you get the picture.

He kicked up a stink I can tell you.

But I stuck to my guns and he wrote.

His handwriting improved and he got his pen licence meaning that at school he could write with a pen rather than a pencil and then the other day he got a Headmaster’s Commendation for Outstanding Work in English – for his diary!

All that hard work paid off. I was so proud of him!

He’ll be celebrating with a new DS game and me? I’ll be celebrating with a well-earned glass of fizz at 6pm on Friday evening!

Bad Mother Moments #2 - The difference between boys and girls explained....

2012-01-24T14:43:00.000Z

I don’t know why it is but the smallest room in my house is my favourite. Actually it isn’t exactly the smallest room; the larder is the smallest room and is my second favourite place in the house.

We use “smallest room” as a euphemism for the lavatory.

Granny’s bathroom is in fact my favourite “smallest room” being almost suffocatingly warm thanks to a radiator and a hot towel rail, which is on permanently as a release loop for the boiler.

It is the place where I go for peace.

Solitude.

Quiet

To contemplate life without life getting in the way.

Problem is that this particular “smallest room” has a faulty door which refuses to shut properly so you can never lock it.

Invariably just as I want to use the “smallest room” my boys get this urgent desire to be with me, as close as physically possible.

It means that you can’t ever quite relax. You can’t switch off and pretend they aren’t there, ignoring the frantic knocking at the door. Not when they are pushing against it and loudly declaiming they want to come in while you frantically try to fob them off and at the same time hold the door closed with your feet. It doesn’t make doing the necessary very easy.

I have tried alternative “smallest rooms” in the house (we have four others) but they are not the same. To be honest they are all far too cold and so not places where you might want to contemplate anything other than the job at hand and vacating as soon as possible.

I have tried sneaking off, not telling them where I am going, but it must be one of those child/mother bonds that mean that they are drawn to where you are like a magnet.

It has led to some interesting questions and invariably some very inappropriate answers.

Him: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Going to the loo.”

Him: “Are you doing a wee or a poo?”

Me: “None of your business.”

Him: “Why?”

Me: “Because sometimes Mummy’s like doing things in private…”

Him: “Why?”

Me: “Just because…”

Him: “It’s very warm in here…”

Me: “Yes it is. Why don’t you go away now and let Mummy be.”

Him: “Where’s your willie?”

Me: “I haven’t got one.”

Him: “Why?”

Me (totally exasperated): “Because I was very naughty and kept asking my Mummy silly questions while she was on the loo and it got chopped off….!”

Feelgood Monday - What better way to start the week!

2012-01-23T09:58:00.001Z

For a feel good Monday Morning these whether true or not made me laugh till I cried this morning. What better way to start the week?!

Love those Church Ladies. They're Back! Those wonderful Church Bulletins!

Thank God for church ladies with typewriters. These sentences (with all the BLOOPERS) actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services:

--------------------------
The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.
--------------------------
The sermon this morning: 'Jesus Walks on the Water.'

The sermon tonight: 'Searching for   Jesus.'
--------------------------
Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
--------------------------
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say 'Hell' to someone who doesn't care much about you.
--------------------------
Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
--------------------------
Miss Charlene Mason sang 'I will not pass this way again,' giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
--------------------------
For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
--------------------------
Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can   get.
--------------------------
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church.
So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
--------------------------
A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will   follow.
--------------------------
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be 'What Is Hell?'
Come early and listen to our choir practice
--------------------------
Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
--------------------------
Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled.
Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
--------------------------
Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.
--------------------------
The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious   hostility.
--------------------------
Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.
--------------------------
The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
--------------------------
This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
--------------------------
Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. is done.
--------------------------
The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the Congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
--------------------------
Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door.
-------------------------
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
--------------------------
Weight   Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.
--------------------------
The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new campaign slogan last Sunday: "I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours".

Bad Mother Moments #1

2012-01-18T12:48:00.000Z

Everybody does it.

I mean everybody has done something like it.

No?

Really?

Are you sure?

Is it just me then?

OH! COME! ON!

Everyone has Bad Mother Moments.

Maybe not as bad as this one but pretty bad I am sure.

Mine happened because I got distracted. I was having a lovely chat and a catch-up aided by a rather superior ~~bottle~~ glass of Shiraz with my mate J.

We were putting the world to rights, talking aesthetics and whether or not puce and heliotrope would go in the drawing room.

The boys were settled quietly in front of Deadly 60 and hadn’t been in to bother us for ages. No demands for food or crisps or the fact that they were hungry.

So it is hardly surprising that it happened. In fact you could say it wasn’t my fault at all.

However, J suddenly realised the time, way past 7 o’clock and I realised that the boys had to go to bed. Tout de Suite!

“Right Boys! Off you go now up to bed…”

“But Mum…”

Typical always trying to watch more TV, always trying to push the boundaries, always wanting to stay up longer…

“No arguing, just do as you’re told”

“But M…

“I said NO ARGUING!”

Honestly they try the patience of a saint they really do.

I hassled them like a demented sheepdog, hushing their protestations before the words were out of their mouths.

I got them undressed and teeth washed and into bed.

They were unusually fractious and I must admit I got really rather cross.

I do believe I snarled.

Anyway I finally got them off to bed. Lights out and all quiet.

And then as I came downstairs to say goodbye to J I noticed that the table was laid up.

I was just about to thank him for laying for breakfast when the horrible truth dawned.

It was still laid up for supper.

My poor boys had been hassled to bed without anything to eat.

Needless to say I shot back up the stairs grabbed my boys and gave them supper much to their relief.

J of course found this highly amusing and has been regaling all and sundry with my Bad Mother Moment. I have quite a reputation to live down in the village…there again HE has quite a reputation to live down regarding my cats and the fact that HE has been in charge when BOTH of them died… now one maybe an accident but two looks like a conspiracy!

Bringing up boys: Hello. Are You Receiving Me? Over.

2012-01-16T19:30:00.000Z

It has to be just boys doesn’t it? You know this selective hearing thing.

Holler: Tidy Up! And you get no response. Nada. Nothing. Not even a twitch when you yell directly in their ears.

Whisper: Shhh don’t tell the kids, here’s a chocolate and BOING!!!!They pop up under your feet like magic even if they happen to have been the other end of the garden.

I have tried to whisper tidy up just to check whether it’s the words or the hearing they have a problem with and I was told to stop kissing their ears. In fact I was swatted away like a fly so that experiment came to nothing.

I have been told especially by my Mum that my Dad had selective hearing. Personally I thought it was because he was deaf in one ear due to the fact that in the bad old days before elf und safety he was allowed to shoot rifles without ear defenders.

She just gave me a pitying look and shook her head. “Your father,” she said “had perfectly good hearing when he wanted.”

Obviously not at lunchtime then I recall but perhaps that had more to do with my Mum’s cooking than my father’s deafness (Mum ran the family kitchen as the “Like It or Lump It Café”).

Dad is a bit deaf now. And as he IS in his 70s (if only just) I suppose that is allowed. I fear though that he hasn’t always been very honest about the degree of his deafness. Certainly it has proved a useful ploy especially if there were any TV programmes we wanted to watch that clashed with his – all he had to do was turn up the volume so he could “hear” and it being SO loud we would vacate the room leaving him in splendid isolation to enjoy any programme he wished.

Perhaps I should take a leaf out of his book; he’s clearly onto something here. I, like him, am vastly outnumbered in my household and it won’t be long before I will be forced to watch all manner of “Boy” programmes when I would much rather be watching something else….

You don’t get to his age without learning a thing or two….

Sometimes There is only one thing to say...

2012-01-13T23:33:00.001Z

... It's been a great day!

City Men: Country Wives - A breakthrough?

2012-01-12T21:20:00.000Z

So I told you that he was away in London and that I was left home alone? Well I think he’s beginning to see things my way. Not that we’ll ever get to move out of this place I fear we are in negative equity after spending a small fortune on its refurbishment. But despite the fact that I never wanted to live in the back of beyond it is a little late to be upping sticks and causing mayhem when the hard truth is I don’t have a fantastic job to go to nor am I the only one I have to think about.

I’ve got two boys and they are happy at school.

They have known nowhere else but here.

And I really HAVE got to get over myself.

So where might my man’s thoughts be aimed?

Well he’s actually going to be working from home tomorrow.

That means he gets to have breakfast with us, he gets to do the school run in the morning and meet the boy’s teachers, he gets to have lunch with me – I promise it IS an experience!

A good one

Honest!

There will be no commute.

He can finish at 5 and be home instantaneously.

Heck we might even be able to have a conversation before he heads off to the drinks cupboard in search of whisky like a drowning man and before I grab the screw top wine from the fridge and cling to it like a life raft for the rest of the evening.

And do you know what else?

I am actually looking forward to him returning home!

They do say absence makes the heart go fonder….

City Men: Country Wives - Drowning not waving!

2012-01-09T20:59:00.001Z

The Money Pit!

Today I sat on the stairs and bawled my eyes out in front of my best mate. J said little but just looked at me as I rambled on between hiccoughing sobs careless of my eye-makeup, careless of the snot dripping from my nose.

He’s the type of guy you feel safe to do this in front of, it’s why we chose him, to be Godfather to Bog Boy after all. There needed to be someone here that could act as a buffer for me and the children when it all gets on top of me.

And today I felt like I was drowning not waving…

I remarked it doesn’t take much anymore to have me off in hysterics. But honestly I haven’t cried like this for years. Some say it’s cathartic to have a jolly good cry perhaps they are right. My eyes ache now and I feel like it must be at least midnight but there again the utter exhaustion may help me sleep better and tomorrow will be brighter.

It certainly felt anything but bright at 2pm this afternoon as I sat there snot dripping.

“I hate this place, I loathe it. I’m selling it!” I howled and punctuated my statement by stamping me feet on the stairs until they rattled.

The house was unmoved.

It’s heard it all before, especially from me.

“I can’t take it anymore, I can’t do it anymore.” I wailed.

I looked at J and I could see he was about to say that I could and I have done and I will so I forestalled him.

“I don’t want to do it anymore,” I heaved out between sobs, “I don’t want to cope. I want to make it stop!”

“I hate Suffolk. I hate this place. I never wanted to come here!” I continued to wail. “And the fact that I don’t have the Internet is just too much…”

We have the honour, nay privilege, of living in an Internet black spot and I have to get my connection with the big bad outside world via a convoluted and complicated network of routers and satellite dishes as BT ain't that interested. It works, usually but every now and then, especially when I am on a deadline, it doesn't.

Then I have to get in touch with Ra. Ra is godlike but like most ancient gods one isn't actually too sure they exist. I have evidence that people round here believe he exists but I haven't actually seen him in so long that I fear he is now mere legend. He NEVER answers his phone and he NEVER tells you what is going on. So I tend to leave increasingly and frequently more and more bizarre messages in my efforts to contact him and more importantly getting him to contact me to say that he has heard what I am saying and that he know and is dealing with t4he problem. NOW!

You get the God like drift here. Basically you have to put your trust in Ra and he will deliver.

Sometime though I actually need to hear that on the telephone. And after four hours of futile calls. texts and general frustration it was all too much.

J gave me a great big hug and I sobbed some more leaving a nice snotty trail down the front of his jumper.

He held onto my shoulders and looked me in the eye: “It’s not just about the fact that you don’t have the Internet again is it,” he said.

That man knows me too well.

Of course it wasn’t about the Internet though as I said it was the last straw.

Suffolk is a funny place. You actually have to want to go there as it’s not on the way to anywhere in particular. It’s sort of a dead end. A bucolic, slightly dirty and otherworldly, dead end with a Nuclear reactor on its coast.

I am sure there are plenty of people who love Suffolk but having been dragged here by my husband seemingly on a whim because he said so with no real thought having gone into it a decade before I am still kind of immune to its charms.

I know I should have got over myself but when things like the Internet goes down for four days and I cannot do my work let alone blog or tweet or indeed even email it just reinforces how terribly isolated the place is.

I did SO love London and I had SUCH a great job, one I enjoyed and was actually good at and having to give that all up to take on a 500 year old decrepit house (even if I was one half of the idiot pair that fell head over heels in love with it and bought it willy nilly) spend ten years doing it up, squandering oodles, and I mean oodles, of thousands of pounds on it foregoing holidays, new clothes, new cars and god know what else – it sometimes just doesn’t feel worth it.

Not when I still have oodles and oodles STILL needing spent on the damn place because I got diddled by the original builders we employed (but that’s another story).

So sitting in those stairs eye makeup smeared down my face, snot dripping and hiccoughing I admitted it.

“Charlie is going to London!” I broke down into hysterical sobs again. “It wasn’t part of the deal!”

No the deal stated that if I did HAVE to go and live in the back of beyond HE was going to be coming home every night – because after all I HAD given up and AWFUL lot.

But times change and sometimes you get new jobs and sometimes there is an economic downturn and your house has eaten up every last cent so your husband has to work harder than ever before and you’ll just have to accept that you need to be a tad more flexible about life.

But it doesn’t mean you have to like it.

And I don’t.

I don’t want Charlie to be renting out someone’s spare room during the week in London, I want him home not because of the deal but because I am going to miss him.

Terribly.

PS. It still pisses me something chronic though that the Internet is so unreliable…blooming backward county!

Weight Watching....it's a bit of a struggle!

2012-01-05T20:27:00.000Z

So I thought it would be a good idea to lose some weight.

An admirable thought.

I did it last year with Thinking Slimmer and it worked. I sort of stopped eating as much and stopped snacking. And then I got ill. Not through dieting I hasten to add, but because I got ill and couldn’t eat. I lost 7kg. Fab!

Now, however, I have gained the weight again not as much I was (73 kg) but enuogh to put me at 70 kg. That’s still a heck of a lot for a 5ft 3inch girl like me.

So this time I thought I’d be a tad more scientific. I would try to see if I could watch my weight and lose it through just cutting out snacks etc. Not dieting exactly just watching my weight.

Problem is I get SO hungry! Especially after I collect the boys from school.

So far I have not done the Thinking Slimmer thing because I cannot find where I put the CD player that works.But I will get it out so I can battle my cravings.

And I did join New Year New Body 2012 run by Liz Jarvis over at The Mum Blog. If I am out there saying I will lose weight I just might – and I am not promising anything here – I just might stick with it.

I also decided to write everything I ate down and calorie count. After three days I am under 2000 calories a day but not enough to really shift that weight. As for exercise? Well that’s out the window because I hate running about in the cold and wet. I could dance in the kitchen but I don’t want to scare the neighbours.

I also signed up to MyFitnessPal and it is here that I got a shock. While it is blissfully easy to use and I would highly recommend it; it is also brutally frank. So far if I continue the way I am going I will lose 0.2 kg in five weeks.

Not really the result I was looking for.

So I will have to rethink what I am eating to drive down that weight and I will have to big up my exercise routine too if I am to get anywhere near losing 3.5kg in three weeks!

As my Dad is fond of saying if you want to lose weight: eat less and exercise more!

I will keep you informed…

Bringing up Boys: The last day of the holidays

2012-01-04T16:05:00.000Z

Tomorrow they go back to school and I am in two minds. One is punching the air and going: “Yes! Yes! Yes!” while the other really doesn’t want it to end at all despite the fact that they drive me barmy!

They whine and fight and use me as some kind of home base – or at least Bog Boy does. He knows that when his brother is coming up to thump him if he can get to me he’ll be safe.

I read the newspaper at the table and then before I know it I have him hurtling towards me with his elder brighter in hot pursuit yelling something along the lines of how much he hates his little brother.

Bog Boy takes refuge in my arms huddling himself in as close as possible and while I try to calm The Boy down I just know Bog Boy is NOT helping.

Instead from the relative safety which is me, he is pulling faces and winding his brother up yet more.

Frustrated beyond his elder brother glares back and finally burst forth about how unfair it all is and how HE, pointing furiously at Bog Boy, always gets away with it.

“It’s not fair you always take his side.”

I point out that since I don’t know what is going on I can’t take anyone’s side.

The Boy’s voice shoots up higher

“It’s all his fault! He never does anything I say. It’s not fair!”

Calmly I ask what is not fair, what has happened and I remind him as he pitches forth that he needs to calm down and tell me everything.

He glares and then starts to say that his little brother lost at Table Football and that because Bog Boy lost it was his turn to say what they would play next.

“I wanted to play cricket but HE said he’d only play if I bowled but it’s my bat! And then he cried and ran to you!”

“But he HURT me mum he did …LOOK!”

I have an arm thrust at me and I can discern nothing but have an idea what has gone on.

“Bog Boy if you lose a game and you agree to play another you must go through with it and Boy your brother is smaller and younger than you do NOT hit him.”

I am wailed at, obviously my answer to their problem has not been greeted with joy and amazement but then it never is.

“Well boys what are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” comes a sulky reply from my side.

The eldest starts to snarl something. I quickly step in.

“Perhaps you’d like to help me then outside?”

There is silence and then a grudging OK.

“How’s about some weeding!”

Their faces drop.

“I’ll take you to see Puss in Boots…!?”

Their faces light up

“…BUT only if you help me outside.”

There is a short pause before they agree and happiness reigns for half an hour as we indulge in a bit of communal weeding. I reckon it's good for the soul. Bog Boy quits soonest and wanders off. The Boy mutters it's unfair but I bribe him with the fact that he'll get a BIG packet of sweets while his brother will only get a small one, so he stays with me. I tell him about the difference between weeds and plants. I show him the baby lupins and aqualiega and we talk.

I tell him that he's bigger than his brother.

Older.

So I expect him to do more. The Boy thinks about this as he weeds and then says that he reckons weeding makes him as big as a 13 year old.

I agree.

He is growing up but that still doesn't mean he views his brother in a grown-up light. I won't push it.

I am taking them to see Puss In Boots

A last holiday treat.

AND I’ll be sitting in between them.

To the utter toe rag who has copied my bank card....

2012-01-03T18:10:00.000Z

Just to let you know I know!
I know what you did and it's called stealing, fraud and being a complete and utter toe rag.
And if you had ever had the privilege to smell my boys feet you would understand how vilely I think of you.
You are utterly beyond.
Selfish, self-centred, small minded - the blooming lot and I hope you get caught and all your mates desert you. Because come off it you obviously couldn't be bothered at school despite having some intelligence (I will give you that for I couldn't even think about copying someone else's bank card; it is far too difficult for me) so you wasted the opportunities given and probably whined about it too.
"Well there's nothing for me, what's the point. Getting a job is like...y'know...boring!"
Well wake up prole - You, Are. A. LOSER.

A total and utter loser. Nobody is ever going to just give you stuff; you have to wake up and get yourself a life and stop being a parasite. If you can't find a job, make a job and yes that may mean cleaning toilets for peanuts but hey I shovelled shit for less than the minimum wage until I managed to prove myself and get a better job.
What is it with people?
Copying a bank card may sound really minor but it causes untold ripples. This is not a victimless crime! It affects us all or are the people who do this sort of thing really stooopid. It costs us ALL in terms of higher loan fees, dearer bank charges, higher insurance premiums and that means we don't have money for the things we need such as heating and food.
Bleurrggh
And a great big raspberry to you too!

PS I feel SO much better after that...

Not quite resolutions…

2012-01-02T19:40:00.000Z

OK so I said I wasn’t going to do any resolutions but just for today I have sort of...

Started…

Maybe…

Ummm...the Boys are not impressed!

Today I started sorting things out. The first promise I have made for myself. I WILL be more organised.

First it was my bedroom – that den of iniquity – away went the dirty clothes which had been festering in a corner since before Christmas, away went the collection of shoes and boots from under the bed, away went the boxes and paper and other Christmas paraphernalia.

Half an hour later I mused what to do now and with my tail twitching I set upon the boys rooms…

It was a struggle but they soon got the gist of it. If it wasn’t nailed to the floor or put in the appropriate place off to the big black bin bag in the sky – amazing how motivating this type of clear up can be.

Action man, Lego, teddies you name it all suddenly found safety in their proper designated places.

Satisfied by my clear up inside I set about my hour in the garden. I have sort of promised the garden an hour of my day every day for a year and that’s it, no more than that.

It too gave in gracefully apart for the fight I had with some burdock.

It seems like everything is going my way today.

I have not snacked either…my final promise to myself to finally get rid of the baby weight I gained when I had the youngest. I lost a stone last year but gained half of it back.

So there they are, sneaking in, three promises to myself - not exactly resolutions but something to aim for…

New Year Resolutions #46

2011-12-31T16:37:00.000Z

Yep running into my 46th New Year and wondering if I have learnt anything over these past few decades.
Errrmmm....
Not a lot....
Well, maybe that's a little bit of a lie; I have learnt that New Year Resolutions don't work that well for me. A friend of mine pointed out, quite correctly I may add though I will never thank him for it, that I hate being told that I cannot do something. That is not to say that I then go out and prove people wrong.
I don't.
I just don't like people saying it.
So how did I do over the year?
well I made one resolution...
And...
I didn't keep it.
So this year I make no promises at all instead as I go into the New year I will count my blessings and they are legion!
So here are my top ten for 2011...

I have my boys.

I have my husband.

I have my family and I have loads of friends (on and off-line!).

I am relatively fit and healthy

I am warm and well fed

I have my dogs (and they are legion so my husband says...)

I have my home

I have my wits (sort of!)

I have a past that has got me where I am and I am happy

And I have a future to look forward to!

Happy New Year

(May your troubles be small and your future bright!)

An apologist…

2011-12-29T19:44:00.000Z

I am an apologist. And I hate it.

If something goes wrong even if I didn’t do it I say sorry. I am always apologising.

I so want to be liked and thought well of that I can go to extraordinary lengths to ensure everyone is OK with it. I worry about it.

I hate people getting me wrong so apologise even when it is probably quite unnecessary and it makes me, well it makes me out to be a wimp. It makes people think I have no backbone and that I am weak.

It makes people suspicious. I mean, why say sorry if you haven’t done anything wrong?

It’s a shocking habit because frequently I am not sorry for what I have done or said and in fact I would like to go a lot further however I apologise instead.

I like to think I weigh up the options and try to look at the bigger picture. Mostly I don’t feel like taking the flak as it is just too exhausting.

Should I stick to my guns and have a pyric victory or shall I just say sorry and shut up? I try to remember what Denis Thatcher used to say: “Better to say nothing and be thought a fool rather than open your mouth and confirm it…”

It doesn’t always work.

I apologise for myself because I mostly think that I am rather a silly person, that other people are better than I, that to be honest I really haven’t a clue what I am doing. So I hesitate, open my mouth in panic, stumble over my tongue and look aghast at the product and inevitably say sorry.

Maybe it’s a word I should ban from my repertoire?

Maybe other people aren’t so concerned about what others think

Maybe I should stop being so concerned myself…easier said than done.

Strange how one doesn’t change the older one gets…Sorry!

Mothers!

2011-12-28T11:45:00.000Z

It can only come from your mother. No one else would be neither quite as frank nor as public and get away with it.

No one else can remind you that you are after all a daughter and not a grown up with a demanding nay even influential job where you are respected and dare I say it…admired, even if it is only in select circles.

So on Christmas day surrounded by loving family she has to come out with it.

"Darling, why don’t you dye your hair?"

I snorted on the gravy and nearly choked unbecomingly on my Christmas turkey.

"What?!"

"It would be so much nicer if you dyed your hair."

I was bewildered. My hair has served me well for 45 years and now she says there is something wrong with it!

"I just preferred your hair when you dyed it."

Now I did dye my hair a few years ago when it first started to go grey but I didn’t think my mother cared one way or the other. And then it dawned on me.

My hair had got too grey!

She wanted me to dye my hair not because it looked better for me to have dark glossy hair but that it was an affront to her to see me with grey hair. Effectively forcing her to admit that she was no longer as young as SHE once was…

However, I must say she may have a point. I am far too young to have grey hair and only the other day someone thought she and I were sisters so perhaps it is in my own best interest….

Me and TV

2011-12-21T23:04:00.000Z

I think I spend too much time in front of the box.
That opiate of the masses.
The television.
Don't get me wrong I am not a couch potato but my consumption of telly is creeping up.
I suppose it's because it is there and convenient especially when I am tired but I think it is getting rather bad when I plan my Christmas dinner round what's on the telly, that I know the theme tunes to a myriad of shows that I could almsot be on Mastermind and that I have watched so many detective/cop/law shows that I could almost write my own. I do love them all CSI, NCIS, Human Target, The Mentalist, Numbers, The Good Wife, Law & Order the list is endless but it's just no good.
And I think back to my childhood and watching Why Don't You...?
And I think that perhaps it would be a good thing if I stopped watching TV just for a month, just for January and see what happens.
I won't stop my children from watching it as basically they only get to watch it on Saturday and Sunday in between Hockey, swimming, tennis, riding and general socialising so it's not as if they are being overloaded.
It's just me.
I won't say stop forever as that would only make me give up in a flash. I just need to give myself a little time.
I just need to stop it for a while and do stuff.
Stuff I always mean to do but never quite get round to.
Guitar practise.
Gardening.
Photography.
Writing.
Walking the dogs.
Running.
Riding.
I need to wake up out of my zombie life and actually live it rather than wait for it all to happen.
Live Life.
I hope I am not too late....

The Nightmare before Christmas…(Apologies to the 12 Days Of Chrismas)

2011-12-20T13:30:00.000Z

With just 12 sleeps to Christmas

I started getting cross

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 11 sleeps to Christmas

There was no shopping done

This isn’t fun

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 10 sleeps to Christmas

Dog ate the Christmas cake

Goodness sake

This isn’t fun

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 9 sleeps to Christmas

No cards had been sent

I need to vent

Goodness sake

This isn’t fun

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 8 sleeps to Christmas

I got the turkey bid

Sixty five quid!

I need to vent

Goodness sake

This isn’t fun

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 7 sleeps to Christmas

The heating oil ran out

Do not to shout

Sixty five quid!

I need to vent

Goodness sake

This isn’t fun

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 6 sleeps to Christmas

I got the presents bought

So I thought…

Do not to shout

Sixty five quid!

I need to vent

Goodness sake

This isn’t fun

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 5 sleeps to Christmas

We brought in the tree

Oh what debris!

So I thought…

Do not to shout

Sixty five quid!

I need to vent

Goodness sake

This isn’t fun

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 4 sleeps to Chrismas

The pipes they did burst

I feel cursed

Oh what debris!

So I thought…

Do not to shout

Sixty five quid!

I need to vent

Goodness sake

This isn’t fun

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 3 sleeps to Christmas

Please don’t take the mick

The cat was sick

I feel cursed

Oh what debris!

So I thought…

Do not to shout

Sixty five quid!

I need to vent

Goodness sake

This isn’t fun

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 2 sleeps to Christmas

I got another guest

Tiny bit stressed

The cat was sick

I feel cursed

Oh what debris!

So I thought…

Do not to shout

Sixty five quid!

I need to vent

Goodness sake

This isn’t fun

Why don’t we call the whole thing off?

With just 1 sleep to Christmas…

Say bye bye to all this

Hotel bliss!

What they asked Santa for Christmas...and what they asked me!

2011-12-12T22:32:00.000Z

Got caught on the hop the other day while doing a spot of Christms shopping at Snape Maltings. There was Santa. Bog Boy, my youngest spotted him and starting yelping in excitment. There was nothing for it but to join the queue to say hello.
Both boys went up. I was quite sure they would both be demanding all sorts that I couldn't possibly give let alone afford. And they were bound to rattle off a whole list of things thaty I am sure they are not meant to even know about let alone want for Christmas, wierd action agames for their Wii, horrid plastic toys that I loathe and well basically show me up for the dreadful mother I am. I waited in trepidation.
"Now young man," says Santa, "have you been a good boy?"
"Yes Santa," nods the youngest sagely.
"And what would you like then for Christmas?"
"An Anbarrow and some lego..."
"Is that it?"
"Yes, Santa"
"Well if you are good until Christmas I will see what I can do..."
Then it was my eldests turn...surley now I will get the massive great list. DS3, X-Box you know the works...
"What would you like?"
"Just a Happy Christmas, please Santa"
Sometimes they catch you on the hop and bring a lump to your throat. I was so proud of them. They are both quite wonderful that was until I got into the car...
"Mum?"
"Yes, Darlings...."
"Can you get us a Playsation for Christmas....?"

Do they still believe in Father Christmas?

2011-12-07T14:21:00.002Z

It’s getting a bit touch and go here as to whether The Boy believes or not. There are a lot of question marks, indeed there are a lot of questions which are randomly fired at me at all sort s of times both day and night. I feel as though I am on the spot and that he is trying to trip me up. If my answers don’t tally then the game is up.

Him: “Can you go and see Father Christmas in Lapland?”

Me: “I am told you can.”

Him: “Is Father Christmas real?”

Me: “He is if you believe he is.”

Him: “Do YOU believe in Father Christmas Mummy?”

Me: “I believe.”

Sometimes he throws me googlies.

Him: “How can Father Christmas deliver all the presents to everyone all over the world in time?”

Me: “Magic.”

Him: Why are there a lot of Father Christmases in shops and everywhere?”

Me: Because there is only one Father Christmas sometimes he has to get people to help him so everyone is happy.”

Him: “Why does Father Christmas not give you everything you ask for even if you have been really good?”

Me: “Father Christmas always asks your parents if the presents he brings are right for you. He wouldn’t like to upset Mummies and Daddies at Christmas time.”

He’s working things out my boy but when he does finally work it out I just hope he’ll keep it quiet until his little brother is ready to ask those questions for himself…