Getting Up Early

It’s a bank holiday here today. I think the parenting rule book for bank holidays goes something like “lie in bed staring at the ceiling for as long as possible before the kids wake up, and start causing mayhem downstairs.” I got up a little after 7am. I obviously haven’t read the rule book. I have had an hour of almost complete peace and quiet since getting out of the shower though.

When I arrived in the lounge – after being accosted by the cats, who were demanding food lest they trip me up and break my neck – our eldest daughter was already watching cartoons. She was dressed. And had last night’s makeup experiment still on. I’m guessing either of two things were going on – (a) she wore the makeup to bed and slept in her clothes, or (b) she didn’t go to bed. I asked. She said she had been to bed. I didn’t persue the line of questioning (I’m learning there are bigger problems in the world).

In other news, I’m still playing with Snapchat. I’m still not sure if I like it or not. I want to like it, but every fibre of my sensible mind tells me to uninstall it. The problem is there are a few friends that use it – friends on the other side of the planet that I would walk across hot coals for (because I’m stupid like that). And they are on Snapchat. I guess in many ways they are not entirely unlike Sirens – luring me willingly onto the internet rocks.

I can hear the voice of our youngest fussing the cats on the upstairs landing. She’s now sliding down the stairs on her bottom. No doubt she will appear in a moment, fraggle-like, in search of food and early morning video games. Middle sister has stealthily tiptoed past – straight to the kitchen. I can hear bread being unwrapped. Who wants to place bets on chocolate spread on toast ?

I better go show my face.

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