A usual hectic Monday, school dropoff, the hunting and gathering of foodstuffs for the family, school pickup, gymnastics, home ….
… preparation of evening meal, devouring of evening meal, bathtime and, due to continued lack of electronic, automatic dishwashing appliance, the convincing of children to assist with washing, drying and putting away of dishes and other mealtime paraphernalia by why of all means available to me; threats, bribery, removal of priveleges, yelling … etc.
There I am, up to elbows in sudsy water, when Chippie uses my legs to pull himself up. Not ‘new’, he’s been doing it for a while now, this pulling himself up to standing. But it’s the first time he’s done it whilst I’ve been wearing pyjama pants (essential wear for doing the dishes). As he pulls up, the pants come down.
Not usually a problem, except my hands are wet and soapy, and there are two primary school aged boys in the room. Pants around ankles, anyone’s pants and anyone’s ankles is, apparently, extremely hilarious.
Godzilla screams in delight and says “I can see your undies!” which is also, allegedly, something extremely mirthful. I pull my pants up, only to have the pulled down again by Chippie as he attempts to stand.
Godzilla is beside himself with glee, I’m thinking he seriously needs to get out more often, and he comes over to smack my bum. Which he does. Giggles hysterically and yells “Wibble WOBBLE!” shouts to his brother to “Come and LOOK” and does considerable more “wibble wobble” ing.
By which stage I’m so consumed with the hilarity of it all, I pull my pants up with wet hands, pour myself a glass of wine and consult my Wii whilst consuming some serious chocolate.