This is him before Cereal Ear Saga.
I thought about tweezers for swift removal of said brittle flake but decided against it. I am, after all, the girl who was taken into hospital at the age of ten after sticking a plastic bead in her ear and having an operation to remove it from her ear drum.
I couldn't work how to get the cereal out without pushing it in further, but then I remembered my brother getting a beetle in his ear as a kid and me pouring a massive jug of water into his lughole and the beetle swimming out in the torrid tsunami.
It worked a treat. Said Special K whooshed out, the Prince could hear again. And I could relax. Until Sweet Child fell off a wooden cart in the garden and grazed her chin. With never ending blood.
Half term.
Such sweet words.
End of half term.
Even sweeter.
Don't get me wrong, we have actually had a blast as the Husband had the whole week off.
But the house was trashed when the kids returned to school. So the first day back, I decided to thoroughly clean the house. As in deep clean. I decided to wear the husband' old jeans to do this.
Now, I haven't worn my own jeans for 26 months. They just don't fit from the moment I got pregnant til now. So I donned male jeans and cleaned all day. Bleached meself happy, so I did.
Then I threw a coat on and dashed to do the school run.
One mum at the school gate nodded to the fact I was wearing jeans. I explained why. She said she had never seen me in jeans before. I let it go. Was my attire really that noticeable?
Then another mum came up to me and over egged the pudding on the whole "Oh! You are wearing jeans" spiel.
I again pointed out they were my husband's denim slacks which I was wearing as I had been grafting all day.
She then said "It doesn't look right, you wearing jeans. You usually wear pretty dresses or skirts. It doesn't really suit you does it?"
Speechless. Did Levi Strauss ever have to put up with this crap?
I then collected the kids and slouched home in my obviously unflattering kecks and soon forgot about it.
Three hours later a friend dropped by, wanting me to tighten the back of her baby sling while her toddler slept on her back. We were on the doorstep, chatting and I told her about my jeans saga after SHE also noted I was wearing jeans.
I told her why I was wearing them and what the other mums had said and how it made me feel.
And she said "I think it's because you usually look so glam with nice clothes and make up on."
Which didn't really help my mood!
So I may well go another 26 months without wearing jeans...
Moving on, the Prince is six today.
He has gone from this:
To this:
He ate birthday cake for breakfast and told us he felt at least seven years old.
I love this boy so much and am very proud of him.
Right, next blog post, charity finds, I promise....
