Well there haven’t been any posts this week not because I couldn’t think of anything to write (although that is coincidentally true) but because we’ve been an ill household. 500 years ago villagers would have bricked up our front door and left us to the mercy of the almighty. Ever since Captain Poo Pants produced a couple of ‘shirt pizzas’ last weekend we’ve all been sicklier than a curve of sharpened metal attached to a short wooden handle.
Luckily we had nanna and gramps staying for the week which has helped immensely when we’ve needed to take a quick 4 hour nap in the middle of the day or to just stand near a sink and retch for a bit.
Unfortunately as well as them having to do all the work, we sent them home with the same bug we’d all had so they really had a great holiday all in all.
The mook meme
There was this girl at my junior school who was, and I’m not sure this is the correct term politically and culturally speaking, a bit of a gommo (or, you might say, obstinately cretinous). She was in charge of handing out milk at break time but possessed a crucial deficiency in that she lacked the ability to say the word ‘milk’. So instead of saying ‘have you had your milk?’, she’d ask ‘asoo asoo mook?’
Milk has hitherto been known in my family as mook and it was as I was asking my mom last week whether she wanted mook in her tea that I realised that in all the times Captain Poo Pants has been fed milk (so probably 2000 times) we’ve called it mook. This is the first time that it struck me that he will pick up on the things I say and assume they’re correct and that I might need to cut down on the stupid shit I say (and stop swearing). Not sure what happened to the girl but there’s a strong possibility she’s still milk monitor.
There has been a small amount of poo somewhere for a couple of days. We’ve scrubbed the changing mat and checked everywhere CPP sits but still every so often, a tiny amount of pooey residue will find its way onto a sock or his tunic. WHERE IS THIS MYSTERY SUPPLY OF POO?
Major excitement this weekend as we got in a new stash of bibs. I’m not completely sure what happened to the 400 bibs we had a few months ago but they all now resemble bits of old chamois leather that you might find on your grandad’s shelf. I wonder whether it would be as well to tape a sponge round his chin and just wring it out a couple of times a day.
One of the things I had been looking forward to most about fatherhood had been being able to play with toys again. Social norms artificially curtail your enjoyment of toys and our broken society pushes you into things like ‘getting a job’. So far CPP’s primary interest in toys has been in seeing how far he can get them into his mouth; poor Elephant has lost his innocence forever. I’m not really sure at what age the games will change from sucking the face off things to creating villages with Sylvanian Families like his dad (it’s a unisex toy, piss off).
We might not have any teeth but for the first time Captain Poo Pants has a bit of hair on the top of his head. I’m not sure what has triggered it but clearly some lazy ass hormone has thought ‘shiiit we better get the chimp shit kicking in about now’. So he’s gone from Richard O’Brien to Fozzy Bear in a couple of days. If cutting his hair is anything like as difficult as cutting his nails, I had better learn how to tie a pony tail.