Twin boy, girl and I have been trying to understand feelings this afternoon.
They seem to have a grasp on it as twin boy likes to express his vocally at any given moment and is prone to Oscar winning performances over the tiniest thing. A refusal of a biscuit before teatime can lead to dramatic swoons followed by Oscar winning hysterics and heartrending pleas.
We had arrived in the land of the free, the country full of irony that doesn’t really get sarcasm. Home to the size zero it also produces pizzas the size of planets and hot dogs which can make a well endowed man cover his nether regions in shame.
I am handing in my notice.
I have been doing this job for nearly five years but to be honest it is time for me to hand over the ropes to someone else. The day to day job is ok but the hours are rubbish I always do twelve hour shifts at least and the occasional night shift.
I spent the vast majority of this weekend damp with a slightly sore bottom. I have looked like Casper the Ghost since Friday, my make up bag has been gathering dust and my ghd’s are stone cold. The children are officially and he who helped create them is looking a bit worn out.
My name is Owen; mummy writes about me sometimes, this is my blog debut. I have had to hijack mummy’s blog as I don’t know how to set one up myself – I am only four.