This morning, this SUNDAY FUCKING MORNING, was an early one.
Today we had to get up early to make the first showing of Diary Of A Wimpy Kid 2 with Boo as he kinda needs the whole damn cinema to himself.
Cause apparently it is OK for HIM to talk and giggle and make a whole mess of noise but NOT FOR ANYONE ELSE.
It is quite surprising that he can actually HEAR other people in the cinema given the fact he is munching on a whole bucket of popcorn and wearing noise cancelling headphones…
I guess that is his superpower.
Supersonic Cinema Hearing.
ANYWAY. Bright. Early. Motherfucking. Morning.
I went into his room, not to wake him because HELLO I HAVE BEEN AWAKE ALL FREAKING NIGHT MUMMY!!!, but to get him in the shower.
In front of his door was a pile of bedding and clothes.
‘What’s with this?’ I asked my kid who at that moment was dancing on his bed.
‘Oh. I… um… wet the bed. Yeah. The bed. That is it. Yeah’
‘oooooooookay then. Was it an accident?’ I asked because the Tiny Terrorist has a penchant for pissing in his room necessitating the replacement of his carpet and the said carpet replacement is supposed to happen THIS WEEK and if he is pissing on his fucking floor again then we will have to put up with the Scent De Boo Piss until he stops that shit.
‘Yeah. Accident. That is it. Yeah’
‘Well thankyou for taking the bedding in the hallway Boo. Now get in the shower’
‘And mummy. There was glue.’
*brain starts screaming ABORT ABORT ABORT GO BACK TO BED KELLEY! BACK AWAY AND GO BACK TO BED!*
‘Yeah. Glue. Glue came out. It is like… GLUE!’
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck I am so not ready for this conversation… NOT READY OMG NOT READY OH FOR THE LOVE OF BACON I AM NOT READY FOR THIS!
‘Sorry Mummy. It was an accident’
Calm down Kelley. It will be OK…
‘That is alright Boo. You don’t have to be sorry…’
And as I am trying to come up with the right words to say… something about puberty and boys and being natural and ONLY IN YOUR ROOM I spy the bottle of GLUE on his bedside table.
‘Yeah. But I don’t have to be sorry. I cleaned it up!’ He smiles at me triumphantly.
‘No more glue in your room OK? Now get in the shower so we can wash it off before we go to the movies’
Hours later I picked up the bedding – hey I had a fucking traumatic morning, don’t judge – and saw it was covered in tomato sauce.
Not only did the little fucker cover his entire body in glue but he didn’t actually ‘wet’ the bed.
Technically the bed was wet. But not with pee.
With fucking sticky congealed tomato sauce.
And in MY world, that is better.