Master Beehive the elder has gone to the farm again today to help with the potato harvest. He went last week and brought me back 3 or 4lbs of lovely spuds as payment for his help.
I dropped him off this morning with his mate. We usually walk but he'd spent half the morning whinging that it was wet out AND he had to catch the bus to the farm AND walk...ALL...AROUND...THE...FIELDS...ALL...DAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY! So I caved and drove them there.
"I won't be bringing any potatoes back this time, mum." he announces as he's climbing out of the car.
"Oh? why's that?"
"I'm fed up with the inside of my rucksack being covered with mud"
Right - 'cos I didn't spend ages scrubbing it pristine for him *sigh*
"It's okay!" says I, remembering my Brownie motto, "Be Prepared".
I hand him a considerably fugly, reusable bag, one of many that I have kicking around the car.
"You can put them in here" I add with a sweet mummy smile
The face...was a picture...
Bet he wished he'd walked!!! Mwahahahahahaha!!!
1 comment:
You really are turning into your mean old mum as you become slightly more mature! I, however, am softening and I do not approve of Victorian child labour for my precious grandson!
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