UNFORTUNATELY, Tate’s daddy was away this Father’s Day so we couldn’t spoil him rotten, so we decided to spoil grandad instead and I made the brave move of booking a table at a nice restaurant under the false hope that Tate and his two cousins would behave.
My hopes for a quiet, relaxing meal were quickly dashed. As soon as we sat down musical chairs began.
Tate decided he didn’t want to sit next to me. He wanted to be with grandma, and because he moved, my niece Eva decided she should move and sit with grandad.
My other niece, Orla, was the only one who stayed still but that was because she was strapped into a high-chair!
Typically, they all calmed down when the adults’ fish platter arrived and both Tate and Eva managed to scoff most of the smoked salmon, quickly followed by the prawns and scallops – they ate so much that when their meals came they ate a chip between them and started chanting for ice cream.
Three tired and loud children were too much for my sister-in-law, so we had to finish our drinks outside away from the other diners.
Next year I think I’ll just cook a meal at home.
LAST week I had my car broken into.
Unfortunately they were the Laurel and Hardy of thieves so they managed to make a complete mess of the car before being caught in the act by the police.
This was obviously not what I wanted to be dealing with at 3am on a work night and the inconvenience didn’t stop there.
As my car was now a crime scene I couldn’t use it, so Tate and I had to trot along to Park Lane and get the Metro.
After three days of public transport I was done, but Tate thought it was the best thing since sliced bread.
I’ve never seen him so keen to get out of bed and get ready on a morning. All he talked about was getting on the choo choo train to anyone who would listen.
Although, he soon realised there was a downside to the bad men breaking mummy’s car when I had to break it to him that they had stolen his DVD player out of the boot and the police had seized it as evidence – no more Toy Story 3 for him until the boys in blue return it. I don’t know how he’ll cope.
TATE is really embracing being a boy at the moment. He loves picking up insects and jumping in muddy puddles and his latest thing is picking his nose, ears and eyes and popping whatever he finds into his mouth.
Yes, it’s disgusting, but I’m trying not to draw attention to it with the vain hope he might get bored of it rather than turning it into a game.
This morning he picked a huge piece of sleep out of his eye and asked “what’s that, is it snot?”, I told him no it’s sleep so he gave it a quizzical look and popped it in his mouth, “it’s gone,” he explained.
It’s a good job I have a strong stomach.