OK Google… Clowns.

This is what Jay heard Benny search for on his tablet today:

“Clowns”
“Clowns”
.. pause ..
“People who are really, really funny”
“People with funny faces”

I guess Benny doesn’t find clowns scary. Yet.

Ice-cold coffee

Cold drinks are the best in this heat, so here’s my recipe for, what I like to call, an “ice-cold coffee”.

You’ll need:
1.5 spoons of instant coffe
Some boiling water
Some milk
Some sugar (If you like your coffee sweet)

Mix all the ingredients together in a cup. Go and feed the baby. Change the baby. Take the baby and the dog out for a walk. Feed the dog. Change the baby. Play with the baby. Feed the baby. Put the baby down for a nap.

Sit down. This is the moment to enjoy your ice-cold coffee from four hours ago.

And don’t forget to drink lots of water in this heat, you guys!

The glamorous life of me

I couldn’t find the nail polish remover so I painted my toenails dark grey to cover the chipped red.
Before leaving the house I asked Jay: “Can I go out like this?”
“I guess,” he said. “If you don’t mind that both your t-shirt and shorts have food stains on them.”
“What? Where? Oh, that’s not a food stain, that’s a hole.”

(An extract from my memoir “The glamorous life of me”)

A low calorie day

“Today was not a low calorie day” is what I think to myself at the end of each and every day.

(Not my photo: there are actual digits on my scale and my feet are not as clean.)

Some mornings

Some days start with cuddles and kisses and laughter, the others start with your child wailing and screaming because you won’t make him corn on the cob for breakfast and because his sister’s blowing on her porridge which, according to him, isn’t hot.

(I couldn’t find a stock photo of a girl trying to eat her breakfast with her brother screaming next to her, and no, I didn’t think of taking a photo of my kids while this shit was going down, so here’s a picture of a corn on the cob.)

When I put my feet like this

Buying kids’ sandals – an annual torture.

This pair of sandals wasn’t good because “it hurts” when he “puts his feet like this”.

Apparently he “puts his feet like this” often enough for it to be a legitimate problem.

How many cashews can a boy eat?

I’m trying to calm down and feed a crying baby with Benny shouting from downstairs:

-Can I have some cashews?
-Yes!
-What?
-Yes!
-Can I have some cashews?
-YES!
-Can I take them myself?
-Yes!
-How many?
-What?
-How many can I take?
-Take ten! (Random number I came up with, since I never thought about the exact number of cashews a four year old should eat)
-How many?
-Ten!
-Can I take eleven?
-Sure, take eleven! (Just be quiet and leave me alone!)
-BUT WHY CAN’T I HAVE TWELVE?!
-I DON’T CARE HOW MANY YOU HAVE! BABY’S TRYING TO SLEEP!
-OK! I’ll take thirteen cashwes!

Ten seconds later, Benny came upstairs to show me that he managed to stuff thirteen cashews in his mouth, all at once (see the photo he wanted me to take for reference). Next time I’ll tell him he can have three.

The baby’s still awake and I gave up on life.