I came home from taking Smudgelet to Cubs to discover there had been a phone call from my nephew.
He never rings.
We’re pretty close but I can’t remember him ever phoning me. Ever.
But he’d left a message saying that whatever time I got in, I should phone him tonight.
My heart started pounding. All I could think of was that my sister had been in an accident – both sisters and brothers-in-law are meeting up in a hotel for the weekend this weekend (woe is me, all left out!) – and C was phoning to break the news. How was I going to tell Dad?
I called several times and got the answerphone. “The person you are calling is on the phone”. No, I don’t want to leave a message, I want to know why on earth C is phoning me so urgently.
I had better pop over to Dad’s and surreptitiously make a bed up, I think. Tomorrow we’re having a surprise visitor overnight 😀 😀 😀
There was still some resolute lack of repentance from the Smudgelets, a residual case of them not really appreciating that they’d done anything wrong. Enter mean-minded-mummy…. mwahahahaha
This evening I apologised to them. “I have been searching my conscience about why you regularly stole money from me to buy sweets and I have realised that I am totally to blame. I have always discouraged you from eating too many sweets. I have put my concern for your health and complexion and teeth before my concern for your happiness and that was clearly wrong of me. So this evening I have decided I am going to make up for it so that you won’t feel the need to binge on stolen chocolate at Music Centre tomorrow”.
Well, wasn’t the tea I served them every child’s dream? A bowl full of liquorice allsorts and jelly babies for starters followed by Haribo jellies for pudding? Smudgelet’s comment was quite telling: “Mummy, I think I prefer learning the easy way than the hard way in future”. Strange, he didn’t finish his tea tonight.
I suppose I’d better put the bucket ready, just in case!
Someone has perpetrated a dastardly deed. Ooh, how I love the word “dastardly” – summons images of someone twirling a thin black moustache and uttering those fateful syllables “mwahahahaha”. But indeed it is true. Someone has clearly invaded my home during the night and squirted cavity wall insulation up my nose. Why else would my sinuses feel as though every molecule of space (can you have a molecule of space?) has been occupied with something which is slowly expanding? The glands in my neck are enlarged – just as they were for glandular fever – and tender to the touch, so please, if you’re planning to strangle me, could you wait until they’re a bit better so it won’t hurt so much. And my throat feels as though I’ve been snacking on barbed wire. I really fancy a bowl of icecream or some hot rice pudding, but I’ve given up all that sort of thing for Lent and somehow an apple doesn’t quite do the same trick for me.
At least I have a sanctuary to hide in. The Smudgelets are learning a lesson about trust as they have been banned from the lounge until Sunday. A 1:1 talk with each of them reveals that they have been running a bit of a racket, one of them spotting any money within easy reach and passing it quickly to the other one to hide. They have been using it to buy sweets at Music Centre on a regular basis – which explains why they were coming home saying “I only spent 15p of the money you gave me for tuck, mummy, as I didn’t want to overdo it with sweets and spoil my lunch, so you can have the rest of the change” to which I’d been responding, of course “You can keep the change and put it in your money box”! It aslo explains why their appetites have been considerably diminished on a Saturday. Tiddles continued oblivious to having done anything wrong. Not sure if he feels the same way now, though. When the car went into the garage to have the windscreen wipers done, his radio, his pride and joy, was in the front seat. When the car came home again, there was no radio to be found in there. “I can only imagine someone at the garage must have taken a fancy to it, Tiddles, and decided to take it for themselves.” His face was a treat – such anger that anyone would dare to purloin something of his. “Yes, I would go and challenge them about it, but then, I know you’re quite happy with the idea of stealing so they might as well just keep it, it doesn’t matter”. Indignant? He was indignation personified! “Would you rather I called the police, then? The thing is, if I call the police in about your radio, then I need to call them in about my money, too” Penny begins to drop. “Because the only difference between your stealing at that stealing is that the radio was stolen by a stranger who doesn’t care about you and my money was stolen by two people I love and trust and who I hope care about me”. Ouch! Maybe, after a bit of thinking time, I’ll get the radio out of my boot and return it to its rightful owner. Maybe.
But for tonight I think I might just curl up in a ball under my duvet after a nice hot soak in an olbas oil bath.