Projectile Vomiting and Caleb Broke the Robot

Sooner or later there had to be an entry with the word vomit in the title. And on this occasion, I refer to Thor. At the party yesterday, he ate and ate and ate. He came home and devoured his sweeties from his party bag and then he devoured a cheese and ham roll. There were chocolate cupcakes, but as they were all full (especially Thor), they all had a taster bite of one cupcake divided into five. Post bath time, Thor, sat on the chaise and looked blankly into space, his tooth brush was in has mouth, motionless. Within the blink of an eye, it had fallen to the floor and gush after gush of sick, oozed onto the dark oak flooring , splattering as it did so…

A mammoth washing day today what with the soiled towels and masses of children’s clothing. All put out to dry now and I am sat down at the kitchen table, awaiting their homecoming from their preschool trip.

Another breakage this morning. Caleb killed the Robot, Johns vacuume cleaning birthday present. He came in from the living room, clenching the robo vacuum cleaner tightly and then he decided to throw it onto the kitchen floor. Pieces of it scattered and he just looked at me with an almighty grin on his face. ‘Why did you do that’ I inquired, ‘Sorry’ was his shamefaced reply. His two favourite words are ‘Sorry’ and ‘Okay’. Thankful the robot was pieced back together, but believe me when I say, everything gets broken, sooner or later and with the not so famous five, sooner would be a more probable outcome.

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A Gay Dad reflecting on life in the Shires of England with my not so famous five and two rapscallion Dalmatian hounds

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