A few weeks back, Mr Beehive the younger started a new school. It's been a steady transition with one of us panicking more than the other - I'll leave you to decide who.
However, he is beginning to settle well and has started to make one or two friends. This morning as I dropped him, he ran off with one of them without so much as a goodbye.
Well, that's a good thing, no?
Just as the bell rang I saw him running back towards me.
Ah! He's not forgotten me after all, he's not so big that he doesn't still need his mama's goodbye hug and reassuring words for the day.
"Have you come back to say goodbye?" I say, arms a-spread to catch him, large smile on my face.
"No! I just wanted to tell you that one of the boys in the breakfast club had done a MASSIVE pooh and we were all looking at it!"
Gee! Thanks babe!
I've now just wasted a good half hour cleaning pooh off the smallest rugrat - no, not LMB, but Little Miss DoggyBeehive. I have no idea WHAT she found to roll it, but fragrant it was not.
To show my disgust at her choice of haute couture, I stomped her upstairs to plonk her in the bath - the shower head was my weapon of revenge.
Get the feeling it's a shit day?!
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