Christmas tree
It has come to something when daughter three has decided that the best way to communicate with her mother is via email - and I work from home. Her ongoing campaign for a sleepover reached its zenith on Friday after a week in which I have not got one night's even remotely good sleep. During the early evening on Friday. I was being sent regular, beautifully crafted emails with reindeer and snowflake backgrounds telling me how much she was looking forward to the sleepover on Saturday and how happy she was in general [the subtext being 'I will look back on a miserable childhood if this sleepover does not happen'].
Unfortunately, by Saturday she had come down with the baby's cold and collapsed in a ball next to me during X-Factor. The baby also seems to have cottoned onto the email thing. If you turn your back for an instant he is sitting bolt upright on the computer chair like a mini office worker trying to turn the computer on. He actually knows how to, as well, which is fairly disturbing.
I am rather worried by the fact that he seems to think he is me, that there is no distinction between him and me whatsoever so if I get to sit at the computer a lot, then so must he. If I like lemon cheesecake, then he is going to help himself too. I gave him one yesterday and he was cock a hoop. I also found him the other day sitting on a chair about to sip my Diet Coke.
When he is not thinking he is me, he thinks he is one of the kittens. We have started letting them out in the garden. Daughter two, known for her slight drama queen tendencies, went hysterical, throwing herself on the floor and weeping. "They'll never come back. The foxes will eat them," she wailed, hurriedly putting on her wellies and heading out to catch them. She has so far only let them out for around five minutes and has been holding them for three of these. Meanwhile, the baby is desperate to go out he presses his nose against the window waiting for daughter two to take him out too.
This weekend we put up the xmas tree. The girls were enthusiastic. I told them to put on some Christmassy songs. Daughter one put on One Direction's You don't know you're beautiful. Not exactly what I was thinking of. I asked my partner. Some gloomy Depeche Mode torture-inspired song drifted across the room. The kittens loved the whole thing, though, particularly the box with the decorations in. The baby is also quite keen on the decorations. I give the tree one to two days tops to remain upright.
We had to move it during Sunday evening as the cats were already eying it up. The baby woke up in mid-move so I headed upstairs. I checked daughter three who had been coughing. Her Peppa Pig thing was glowing beside her. I signalled to my partner as I picked up the baby to go and turn it off by pressing its tummy. It was at that moment that I realised that when you push its tummy to turn the light off it starts playing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Sure enough, 30 seconds later the nursery rhyme started playing and I heard a muffled Christmassy expletive coming from the bedroom...
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