why I refuse to educate my kids…

6.06: the soft cries of mama mama from BB’s cot transcend into loud wails of hunger. I struggle from the soft comfort of my duvet and stumble blindly into her room to see her stood inside the cot arms outstretched lips already pouting for a kiss. Whispering morning into her fair, warm hair we silently tip toe back to my room taking care not to wake any more small or hairy people in the home.

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living with Mary feckin Poppins

The chap I married is not a morning person. He takes exception every morning to having a five year old creeping into his room between five and seven and asking in a booming voice,

“Is it waking up time yet?”

He typically does a strong impression of a corpse at this point in order to not have to deal with said child. I can physically feel his body freeze into rigor mortis as the door handle starts to turn.

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