Sunday, 27 November 2011
Time: 8.20am; Setting: the vicarage hallway.
The plot so far: we are stressfully hunting down matching shoes for the walk to school after a sticky, delaying incident with the cat litter tray.
Small Son: [as we head for front door] 'By the way, I've got to bring a firefighter's outfit to school today.'
Me: 'Now you tell me!' [Thinks quickly] 'Go and grab your navy trousers and Bob the Builder helmet.'
Small Son: 'I don't think they wore helmets in 1666.'
Me: 'You've got to be a 17th-century fireman?'
Small Son: [patiently] 'Yes Mum!'
Me: 'What did they wear?'
Small Son: 'Dunno.'
Me: 'Probably tights and tunic. Quick, ask your sister...'
Small Son: 'I'm NOT wearing tights!'
Me: 'Did they even have firemen in 1666?'
Small Son: [disapproving] 'No Mum! They had firefighters.'
Me: 'You have precisely 60 seconds to turn yourself into a 17th-century firefighter.'
Luckily Small Son decides that the fearless firefighters of Restoration England wore jeans and a red Primark fleece. I am not going to argue and we hurtle out of the door almost on time.
A week passes.
Time: 8.20; Setting: the vicarage hallway
Small Son [as we head for the front door]: 'Mum, it's the Harry Potter day today. I said I'd go as Dumbledore...'
Find more Funee posts at Actually Mummy and more stressy ones at Herecomethegirls