tamariki

There was a poopsplosion in my house this morning.  Thank goodness we don't have carpet, is what I'm saying.  P and I escaped the noxious fumes and clean up duty by thrusting a roll of paper towels and spray'n'wipe at the offender's father and escaping the property immediately.  I have been sniffing whiffs of poo all morning, despite having been nowhere near the culprit or the mess.  I've checked my outfit, my hair, my shoes - I hope I'm just having malodorous flashbacks.  I really, really hope so. 

Other things what I have noticed, living with small children:

• Stupid stuff is really funny.  Flicking light switches on and off: hilarious, when it's an 18 month old who is just so pleased by his tricks. 
• They produce MOUNTAINS of washing and cleaning.  Even with all the plastic dishes, there's just so much filthy stuff everywhere.  I was unaware that there was peas and corn in my kitchen and yet there are stray morsels all over the living room floor.  And how do two very small boys produce such a ring of grime around the bathtub? Amazing.
• Cartoons are shite. Have thought so for years and Lightning McQueen is doing nothing to disabuse me of the notion.
• Don't mind playing cars though, for twenty minutes or so anyway.
• I am super jealous of 12 hours of sleep.  Three's not so keen on having 12 hours enforced, but I'd TOTALLY take 12 hours if it were reasonable. 
• 70 square metres is really not that big on a wet day.  I mean, you might not think it big at any time, but with four adults and two smalls, 70 square metres starts to feel pretty confining.
• Once they're asleep, you can be louder than you think. 
• I thought I drank a lot.  Then I discovered the quantities of gin the parents of small people can pack away post-bedtime. 

That's after four or so days.  Let's see what else I learn over the next four and a half weeks, shall we?