The Eyes Have it....Again

I now have all three children off with sticky eyes.

My eye runneth over.

Short of taking the house apart brick by brick and scrubbing it with Fairy Liquid and a tooth brush in the manner of big hatted Phil from Time Team, I am at a loss as to know what to do:

‘You see Katy, m’dear.  If we strip your house back to a series of low walls, within a century or so, your conjunctivitis problem will be a thing of the past.  Bring on the diggers…’

I could always chop their hands off.  I suspect that this might work.  No matter how many times I hoarsely shout ‘Wash your hands!’ or ‘Keep your hands away from your face!’ in the manner of a Sergeant Major, they cannot resist poking away at themselves with their filthy little paws.

‘Tallulah! If I’ve told you once…’

I have decreed that whatever state their shining, innocent faces are in tomorrow, they are all going to school, even if I have to chop heads off and replace them with cabbages with faces drawn on in biro. I am scheduled a morning off, and I will have it by golly.

I sound fierce, but you know I will cave in when I see their eye bogey encrusted little faces….Curse them.

If it wasn’t for you pesky kids, etc…

Matilda, bless her, is desperate to go back to school.  She hated missing netball yesterday and it is the talent show on Friday.  She has been practicing so hard there are threadbare bits of carpet which could tell the tale.  I cannot deny her this.  What if Simon Cowell is in the audience? She could be shot to stardom.  Not that she is terribly keen.  Like me, she is always dropping something down her front or being photographed scratching her arse.  She would be eternally in Heat’s ‘ring of shame’ pages.  They would probably dedicate an entire edition just to her.

No. Her heart is still set on being an artist, and why not indeed? The amount of money she is saving in the old Roses box is creeping upwards.  I believe she has saved nearly thirty pounds now.  This will at the very least purchase a lot of rolls of sellotape.  This would be useful.  She spent most of last night with a giant cardboard box, creating a home for her bears to live in.  I’m sure you remember ‘bear’.  ‘Bear’ is the one and only, never to be replaced bear that she lost in January during a horrendous snowstorm, and which I, like the gullible parent I am, tracked over wastelands and through gutters etc. 

Bear has a family.  There are granny’s and aunties and cousins etc, and although they are not as crucially important to the world continuing to turn as Bear herself, they are quite special.  Special enough for her to spend three hours last night building them a house.  It is now lurking in the corner of her bedroom, rather like the flying boat/car that she made last year, which finally bit the bullet this year, much to my relief.  It was very good, but it was a most unweildy shape and had a lot of strings and pulleys and things that I was continually tripping over.  Oscar was fascinated by it and spent much time trying to break into the bedroom to help remodel it, and all in all it was just a massive responsibility.  He has not seen the bear’s house yet.  Long may it last.

Tallulah is keen to go to school because they are doing Guy Fawkes this week and she has made a picture with; ‘You know mummy, those pencils made out of burned up wood stuff?’ ‘Charcoal?’ ‘Yes!’ and it’s going on the display board in the hall.  She needs to be there for her moment of fame.

It will happen. It shall happen.  I shall don the Ruby Slippers and chant: ‘There’s no place like school…’ until they magically whisk off there in a giant hot air balloon, accompanied by a small, crap, wizard.

It will definitely happen.