Irony? Sod’s Law, anyway.

Standard

This morning The Pie was tidying her room. She asked for the hoover. After I’d picked myself up off the floor I enquired as to why she needed it, seeing as her floor was still covered in a million teeny tiny beads and crystals. It turns out that rather than bother to pick them all up (no small task), she would rather suck them up with the vacuum cleaner and lose them.

 

Well, I wasn’t having that, so I made her tidy them up and she put them all in a sandwich bag for safekeeping.  She then did a really good job of cleaning her room, so all was well.

 

Fast forward to this evening. The Rock God and I are trying heroically to cook dinner, feed the Little Chum AND move the TV etc onto the new TV unit, all at the same time, in an attempt to squeeze in the new Transformers film AND X-Factor tonight.

 

In doing so, we made the crucial mistake of leaving The Chums unattended in the same room at the same time for more than fifty eight seconds.

 

Here’s how it went down:

The Pie was carrying around her bag of beads.

The Boy was in a wind up mood.

They met on the stairs.

 

‘Moron,’ said The Boy

‘Idiot,’ said The Pie.

She swung her bag of beads at him. Hit him IN THE FACE.

 

The Boy screamed.

The bag split.

The Pie cried.

I swore loudly.

 

Ever wondered what three thousand miniscule beads look like, cascading down a carpeted flight of stairs? I can’t say I had. It wasn’t the artistic spectacle you might imagine, funnily enough.

So the beads are now in the hoover after all.

The TV is sitting forlornly in the living room, unplugged and alone. Dinner is being eaten in stony silence.

They won’t be watching the film OR X-Factor and I am going to have a glass of wine.

xx

 

 

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