It's been a while since we indulged in a spot of giggling at the amazing things our young children say on this blog. It's not that mine haven't been saying all manner of amusing, inappropriate, embarrassing things. It's just that I haven't been organised enough to jot them down.
I feel an extra need to indulge in a spot of giggling at the moment as we are going through some personal family life challenges at the moment that are making life that little bit more emotional, raw and painful. But we are a family bursting with love, and it's for that reason that I know we can get through the challenges together. When it's less raw, and less likely to set me off crying again, I may well share; but until then I undertake the usual human trait of short-term avoidance tactics and instead indulge in the distraction of my daughters' naivety.
Showing posts with label sitcom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sitcom. Show all posts
Saturday, 2 March 2013
Monday, 20 August 2012
Day One: Sandy Balls
Welcome!
This is the first of a series of posts based on our crazily busy holiday down in Bournemouth and Slough. Yes, you heard that correctly; Slough. We've had an intense week of family days out; it's cost us far too much, but we've had an absolutely ball. Sleep is high on the agenda this week.
I'll publish the posts that were drafted during the trip over the next few weeks between other yummy musings. Enjoy the series. If you don't want to miss a thing you can subscribe to posts over on the right hand panel, or follow on Facebook or Twitter.
Today we made arguably a large mistake in allowing our Satellite Navigation system the freedom to navigate us the 300 miles from our home in the Midlands to Bournemouth on the south coast without so much of a glance at a proper paper map before getting in the car.
To be fair it gave us three route options; the first, and supposedly fastest, would take us down to the M25 around the west side of London and then out again. We decided that any route that included the M25 in it was flawed, especially when you've got two small children in the car and absolutely don't want to hit a tailback. The second route appeared to go through the middle of Birmingham. We judged that might get a little bit busy. So we selected the 'yellow' route of the three -straight down the M1, and then, from what I could make out on the summary map, a straightforward southerly route on A roads.
The first half of the journey went well; duel carriageways all the way. Then we were routed off the M40.
As we hit Hampshire we delighted in oo-ing and ah-ing at the increasingly large houses flanking the fairly slow moving country road. We expected that we were cutting across to another main road. We expected to hit an A road. And sure enough, eventually we did. Hurrah, we collectively thought. Then I checked the Sat Nav.
"Er, I'm afraid we aren't on this long" I said, just before the woman with the American accent started her "In 400 yards take the exit" spiel.
"Ah yes," said hubby, looking at the signpost. "Of course. Towards Middle Wallop."
It's incredible how much you can convey in so few words said with exactly the right tone. He managed to convey frustration with the lack of A roads, frustration at the Sat Nav, quiet submission to it's will,
and the obviousness that, despite not having a clue where we were, it was as clear as day that the next part of the route would be windy, single lane, country roads that would slow us down, simply because the place was called Middle Wallop.
In much the same way that we create a picture of people in our heads when given a name, before we've ever seen what they look like, (those important first impressions) we also form a picture of a place based solely on it's name. In my case, my 30ish* years of experience provided me with a picture of Middle Wallop that involved thatched cottages, lots of fields, a pub probably with the word "dragon" in the title, a traditional post office with surviving red post box and possible one bus stop in the entire place. Village hall on the green of course. Not much else.
If you live in Middle Wallop and find my brain's assessment inaccurate, please feel free to let me know and I apologise for it's ineptitude. But, having now driven past the place and it's neighbours of Nether
Wallop and Over Wallop**, I am fairly sure I'm not far wrong.
So when hubby said "Of course, through Middle Wallop" I had a giggling fit. I knew exactly what he meant. I couldn't stop laughing for about ten minutes straight. Of course it was inevitably that the Sat Nav would take us this way. It's got a sense of adventure. It once took me into the centre of Derby and back out again to the same road just to get a couple of miles cut off the corner as the crow flies. It took half an hour extra.
I giggled and giggled. And just when I started to get tummy ache and the children in the back seat were shouting, Mummy Mummy, what's the matter? And I couldn't answer I was laughing that much. At that point; we drove into Jack's Bush. I kid you not.
When I'd finally stopped snorting and we'd been back out of Hampshire and back in again on our windy route towards and through Salisbury, I was so delighted to spot yet another snort-inducing sign pointing
slightly off our route.
What was the name of the place it was pointing towards? Sandy Balls, of course.
I adore UK place names.
Thank you for the giggle Sat Nav. But next time stay on the A roads please!
* Alright, alright, nearly 40 years..... no need to shout.
** Why not Upper and Lower Wallop?
This is the first of a series of posts based on our crazily busy holiday down in Bournemouth and Slough. Yes, you heard that correctly; Slough. We've had an intense week of family days out; it's cost us far too much, but we've had an absolutely ball. Sleep is high on the agenda this week.
I'll publish the posts that were drafted during the trip over the next few weeks between other yummy musings. Enjoy the series. If you don't want to miss a thing you can subscribe to posts over on the right hand panel, or follow on Facebook or Twitter.
***
Day One: Sandy Balls
Today we made arguably a large mistake in allowing our Satellite Navigation system the freedom to navigate us the 300 miles from our home in the Midlands to Bournemouth on the south coast without so much of a glance at a proper paper map before getting in the car.
To be fair it gave us three route options; the first, and supposedly fastest, would take us down to the M25 around the west side of London and then out again. We decided that any route that included the M25 in it was flawed, especially when you've got two small children in the car and absolutely don't want to hit a tailback. The second route appeared to go through the middle of Birmingham. We judged that might get a little bit busy. So we selected the 'yellow' route of the three -straight down the M1, and then, from what I could make out on the summary map, a straightforward southerly route on A roads.
The first half of the journey went well; duel carriageways all the way. Then we were routed off the M40.
As we hit Hampshire we delighted in oo-ing and ah-ing at the increasingly large houses flanking the fairly slow moving country road. We expected that we were cutting across to another main road. We expected to hit an A road. And sure enough, eventually we did. Hurrah, we collectively thought. Then I checked the Sat Nav.
"Er, I'm afraid we aren't on this long" I said, just before the woman with the American accent started her "In 400 yards take the exit" spiel.
"Ah yes," said hubby, looking at the signpost. "Of course. Towards Middle Wallop."
It's incredible how much you can convey in so few words said with exactly the right tone. He managed to convey frustration with the lack of A roads, frustration at the Sat Nav, quiet submission to it's will,
and the obviousness that, despite not having a clue where we were, it was as clear as day that the next part of the route would be windy, single lane, country roads that would slow us down, simply because the place was called Middle Wallop.
In much the same way that we create a picture of people in our heads when given a name, before we've ever seen what they look like, (those important first impressions) we also form a picture of a place based solely on it's name. In my case, my 30ish* years of experience provided me with a picture of Middle Wallop that involved thatched cottages, lots of fields, a pub probably with the word "dragon" in the title, a traditional post office with surviving red post box and possible one bus stop in the entire place. Village hall on the green of course. Not much else.
If you live in Middle Wallop and find my brain's assessment inaccurate, please feel free to let me know and I apologise for it's ineptitude. But, having now driven past the place and it's neighbours of Nether
Wallop and Over Wallop**, I am fairly sure I'm not far wrong.
So when hubby said "Of course, through Middle Wallop" I had a giggling fit. I knew exactly what he meant. I couldn't stop laughing for about ten minutes straight. Of course it was inevitably that the Sat Nav would take us this way. It's got a sense of adventure. It once took me into the centre of Derby and back out again to the same road just to get a couple of miles cut off the corner as the crow flies. It took half an hour extra.
I giggled and giggled. And just when I started to get tummy ache and the children in the back seat were shouting, Mummy Mummy, what's the matter? And I couldn't answer I was laughing that much. At that point; we drove into Jack's Bush. I kid you not.
When I'd finally stopped snorting and we'd been back out of Hampshire and back in again on our windy route towards and through Salisbury, I was so delighted to spot yet another snort-inducing sign pointing
slightly off our route.
What was the name of the place it was pointing towards? Sandy Balls, of course.
I adore UK place names.
Thank you for the giggle Sat Nav. But next time stay on the A roads please!
* Alright, alright, nearly 40 years..... no need to shout.
** Why not Upper and Lower Wallop?
Saturday, 21 July 2012
How to embarrass your husband..
My friend had been debating booking a last minute mini break for her, her hubby and their three girls. I suggested that, since it was going to be warm, why not stay and home and enjoy the garden; saving a few pennies in the process. And so it was that, inevitably, then the word "BBQ" was uttered.
"I'd stock up tonight if you are thinking of doing that" I said wisely (being the wise one that I am). If the sun really does come out tomorrow (ye of little faith) then there'll be a run on burgers and baps."
My university experience tells me that a good portion of my readers won't know what a bap is, since this is one of those items that seems to have a different name depending on which town you are in. So; I will translate; burger bun, cob, bread cake, butty.... feel free to write in if you know of further alternatives.
"It's a good idea" she said. To cut out the boring bit of the tale, she popped out to the shop next door and bought baps. She bought me some too; a pack of 12. We'd be prepared.
An hour later, as I packed away the gymnastics kit and ringing my hubby to see what time he'd be home (I was planning a Chinese take away) I realised I'd had a complete mummy brain moment. I'd happily abandoned the pack of 12 baps in their carrier bag in the female changing room of the sports centre.
I had to ring the bewildered receptionist, who had to send a male attendant in there (no females on duty apparently) to retrieve them and to save them at reception for me. Only I wasn't about to try and get both girls back in the car. So hubby was called in to save the day. One phone call later and I'd arranged for him to pick them up.
It was only when he arrived home slightly pink in the face that I discovered how much I'd embarrassed him. You see, walking up to a female sports centre receptionist at 6.30pm on a Friday night and saying:
"I've come for my wife's baps", could potentially be taken the wrong way...........
Monday, 2 July 2012
Out of the mouths of babes (July 2012): Willies & Pirates
My younger daughter is now 3 years old. I envy the things that she gets away with saying."You've got a big tummy mummy. Like Mr Greedy!" Gee, thanks love. And no; I'm not pregnant, just suffering from post holiday weight gain. Thanks for reminding me.
"Our cousin can stand up to do his wee wee. I can do that too."
"No dear, you can't.... No. Sit down please dear." Starts to panic "Really, love, sit down! You've got nothing to aim with!" How did I further explain this? "You know the water squirters we played with on holiday, that you can point and aim at whoever you want to splash? Well your cousin has a willy that he can point and aim with. But you don't. If you try and do it standing up, it'll just run down your legs." Her response? "That's not fair! I want one"
"Dog's aren't pets, mummy".
"Yes they are dear."
"No they're not. They are dogs."
And her current favourite jokes:
1. "What's a pirate's favourite shop? Aaaaaarrrrrrgos."
2. "What's Dora's favourite shop? Boots."
3. "What's a cow's favourite shop? Mooooooo" (No I don't get this one; but she thinks it's hilarious!)
My children make me
Now grab a cuppa, unplug the phone, and enjoy the posts as they are added! Whilst you are waiting for them, here is June's edition for your giggling pleasure! Out of the mouths of babes (June 2012)
Instructions
1. Grab my button and paste it at the top or bottom of your post, to enable readers to get back to the main list. (Please let me know if the code doesn't work. I'm still a little new at this and nervous about copy/paste!)
2. Publish your post on your blog.
3. Add your post URL to the Linky tool below and watch your post appear as if by magic to the main list.
Thanks for sharing!
Wednesday, 13 June 2012
I NEED THE TOILET DADDY!
It's a lovely large sandy beach and the water is not particularly deep and it stays so for quite a while, providing a very large area for swimming and splashing and lounging about on lilos (if so inclined) quite safely.
She, the 6 year old, is swimming with an inflatable ring around her waist for ease. He's encouraging her to kick her legs and practice her swimming strokes as she's been taking lessons.
They've been in the sea a fair while, so it's not entirely unexpected when she says:
"I need the toilet, daddy"
Daddy does what, let's face it, most daddy's would do when faced with this question at nearly a hundred yards from the shore. He explains, in hushed tones, that it's really alright to go to the toilet out in the sea when you are that far out. After all; it's all very natural and no-one will ever know. And of course, it saves him rushing her in to the beach and up to the hotel.
A few minutes later she grins and says; "Done it!" and carries on swimming.
Daddy is pleased with his parenting skill so far in, what could have been a taxing situation.
They swim some more.
And Daddy catches sight of a leaf in the sea.
He thinks it's odd, being so far out, so he looks a little more closely.
It's not a leaf.
Daddy wasn't entirely specific enough when he explained what was acceptable in the sea. In fact he really ought to have explained what was and what wasn't.
He quickly moved away from the floating 'leaf' and said to her urgently.
"Did you just have a wee wee, dear?"
"No daddy" she says, sweet and innocent as pie. "I did a poo poo too" she adds proudly.
Parenting skills have taken a blow. Daddy knows he needs a quick recovery. Clean up will be required if he has any hope of keeping this minor error a secret. He whispers to her that actually it's not really good form to do 'those' in the sea, and he gets her to quickly whip off her swimsuit so that he can 'clean it out'.
They are a long way out, and there's a lot of space around them, so hopefully no one will notice.
He cleans the swimsuit up, scrapping them out with his hands (euuuwww), and pops them back on her and looks around them to check if he's got away with it.
A fellow is floating quite close to them now on a lilo, but other than that, there isn't anyone particularly close by.
He thinks they've got away with it.
That is until he spies, out of the corner of his eyes, the man on the lilo suddenly flinch, and start back-peddling quickly in the opposite direction.
I guess the 'leaf' was heading his way......
I am lucky to have such an honest husband that, in the interests of providing bloggable material he felt he really couldn't keep this secret, well, a secret.
Monday, 4 June 2012
Out of the mouths of babes (June 2012)
This weekend my daughter, 6 years old, was watching the Diamond Jubilee Pageant on the television. The Queen hadn't yet arrived and my daughter was getting a little frustrated and bored watching all the other Royals arrive and take what seemed like forever to get on the boat.
"Where's the Queen, mummy?" she asked
"I'm not sure darling" I responded.
"I know." She said. "She's late".
"I don't think she is love."
"Yes she is, mummy. She probably needed a poo poo."
Children are so brilliantly literal and marvellously insightful! If you have a blog, post your story and link it up here using the instructions below. If not; simply sit back, grab a cuppa, and enjoy the growing list of posts as they appear in the list below.
Here's May's edition for your giggling pleasure.
Instructions
1. Grab my button and paste it at the top or bottom of your post, to enable readers to get back to the main list. (Please let me know if the code doesn't work. It's the first time I've tried this!)
2. Publish your post on your blog.
3. Add your post URL to the Linky tool below and watch your post appear as if by magic to the main list.
Thanks for sharing!
Friday, 4 May 2012
Out of the mouths of babes
At the moment my younger, at 3 years old, is starting to understand the concept of 'teasing'. Mainly, I expect, because her father is a great 'teaser' and is often winding the girls up.
Yesterday, after I'd asked the girls to head upstairs to brush their teeth for bed; and I'd asked twice; she stopped, half way up the stairs. She sat herself down and her bottom lip inched out.
"Mummy, I don't like you anymore" she said.
"Oh, why not love?" I said, wondering if I'd raised my voice more than I thought (I hadn't)
"You always tell us what to do. I don't want you to be my mummy anymore".
Now at this point my heart was throbbing from the knife stabbed through it.
"Oh love!" I exclaimed "It wouldn't be very nice if you didn't have a mummy would it?"
"Daddy will look after us" she responded. The lip was still out and she was looking very coy, though I didn't notice it at the time I was too busy trying not to cry myself.
"Oh" I said.
And then; with timing only a 3 year old could possess, she looked up through those long eyelashes and said, sweet as pie, "It's alright Mummy. I'm only teasing."
You can imagine it can't you.
And so, I thought it would be nice to bring together other mummy blogger's posts sharing the words of wisdom that our children provide us with. Here it is; the "Out of the mouths of babes" link up. Hopefully lots of my lovely fellow mummy bloggers will join up (instructions below) and add their links to the list below. Have fun reading them! The aim is to do this every month. Let's see how it goes!
Instructions
1. Grab my button and paste it at the top or bottom of your post, to enable readers to get back to the main list. (Please let me know if the code doesn't work. It's the first time I've tried this!)
2. Publish your post on your blog.
3. Add your post URL to the Linky tool below and watch your post appear as if by magic to the main list.
Thanks for sharing!
Monday, 26 December 2011
Christmas Eve Eve Fun!
So it's Christmas Eve Eve (That's the day before Christmas Eve - just to be clear!) and the children are having a whole day out with Grandma and Grandad to go to the pantomime.
My hubby books the day off and we spend the whole morning screwing.
The first screw was a bit tricky. It wouldn't go in. But in the end a bit of fiddling did the trick and in it slid.
After quite a few more screws, and three hours later, we were getting blisters. So we had to have a lie down on the bed we'd just made.
But it wasn't all that comfortable to be honest. Our old mattress was too big for the bed, so I braved the awful rain and dangerous driving conditions on the M1 to travel 30 miles to IKEA and back to collect two new mattresses. Very comfortable they are too.
It's a good job the eldest appreciated her new bed that Santa delivered early whilst they were at the Panto.
Apparently it was too big for his sleigh. I can't imagine how hubby and I missed him.
Too much screwing I guess!?
If you like this; you might also like:
You want a big what?
The big one goes public
My hubby books the day off and we spend the whole morning screwing.
The first screw was a bit tricky. It wouldn't go in. But in the end a bit of fiddling did the trick and in it slid.
After quite a few more screws, and three hours later, we were getting blisters. So we had to have a lie down on the bed we'd just made.
But it wasn't all that comfortable to be honest. Our old mattress was too big for the bed, so I braved the awful rain and dangerous driving conditions on the M1 to travel 30 miles to IKEA and back to collect two new mattresses. Very comfortable they are too.
Apparently it was too big for his sleigh. I can't imagine how hubby and I missed him.
Too much screwing I guess!?
If you like this; you might also like:
You want a big what?
The big one goes public
Friday, 16 December 2011
Wearing Pyjamas on the school run - I'm not proud
OK, I admit it. I didn't technically get dressed this morning. But I stress the 'technically'. It's not like I had my best lingerie on; baby doll nightie's don't sit well with blue noses in this wintry weather, and I wouldn't want to freak out the local Lollipop man.
But I did leave my comfy Canterbury of New Zealand jogging bottoms on. I didn't bother with a bra, and with my big blue coat, snow boots and scarf, who really noticed?
I though I said in the title that I'm not proud, actually, I have realised that I am pretty proud of myself. Obviously not for helping the cause (it's definitely not one of my yummiest mummy moments, particularly as I haven't yet mentioned that I didn't even brush my hair. OK, I'm ashamed at that bit. I apologise profusely and ask for Santa's forgiveness).
I am proud that, by getting my daughter to school on time, despite appearances, I put her education before my vanity. And frankly, I think I consider that fairly yummy in itself.
What do you think? Is it ever OK to be so ungroomed at the school gate!
But I did leave my comfy Canterbury of New Zealand jogging bottoms on. I didn't bother with a bra, and with my big blue coat, snow boots and scarf, who really noticed?
I though I said in the title that I'm not proud, actually, I have realised that I am pretty proud of myself. Obviously not for helping the cause (it's definitely not one of my yummiest mummy moments, particularly as I haven't yet mentioned that I didn't even brush my hair. OK, I'm ashamed at that bit. I apologise profusely and ask for Santa's forgiveness).
I am proud that, by getting my daughter to school on time, despite appearances, I put her education before my vanity. And frankly, I think I consider that fairly yummy in itself.
What do you think? Is it ever OK to be so ungroomed at the school gate!
Saturday, 7 August 2010
Or should it be Scatty Mummy?
It's no surprise that there's a general consensus that having children kills off your brain cells. Particularly if other Mummies have the same kind of daily experiences as me.
Today I hit the shops with the elder, 4yrs, in tow. Not wanting to browse around, as she was getting tired, and was likely to run down the aisles any minute, I asked a male sales assistant, where I could find the waterproof mattress protectors.
He duly led the way across the store to the correct section and I, trying to steer my daughter in the correct direction behind him, followed. The elder immediately hid behind a display. I had to do the quick telling off, look up again, clock the sales assistant and continue following him.
He headed straight for the tills. He got in behind one of the tills. I stood next to the till. And he looked up and said, "Can I help you?".
I looked at him. Carefully. Thought about it. And turned around. Another sales assistant was stood slightly further back in the shop looking at me with a confused expression on his face.
I had, of course, managed to follow the wrong sales assistant after telling my daughter off.
You could have fried eggs on my face. Not a good look.
A very timid mummy followed the original sales assistant to the correct side of the shop for my mattress protectors, and tried to protest my innocence... mumbling about uniforms, etc... I didn't help myself.
Hence my apparent evidence in support of the brain cell theory. Doesn't 'distraction by a 4yr old' count as a defence?
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
I'm Loosing my Mind!
I went to a 1st birthday party on Sunday. It was my nephew's. My mum had given me a present to take along to the gathering from her and my dad. Did I take it?
Of course not, because I'm clearly loosing my mind. I seem to forget everything at the moment. If you've not had a birthday card from me, then I apologise. If I've forgotten to ring, having said I would, then I'm sorry.
I keep telling myself that I have so many things to remember, it's only natural that some things will slip through the net. And of course we focus on the forgetting, rather than on the many rememberings (is that even a word?)
On a completely different note, I've worked out how to bathe two toddlers and get them to bed within 2 hours now (just). This is a bit of a cliffhanger, as I'll share tomorrow..... (oooooooh, get me!)
Of course not, because I'm clearly loosing my mind. I seem to forget everything at the moment. If you've not had a birthday card from me, then I apologise. If I've forgotten to ring, having said I would, then I'm sorry.
I keep telling myself that I have so many things to remember, it's only natural that some things will slip through the net. And of course we focus on the forgetting, rather than on the many rememberings (is that even a word?)
On a completely different note, I've worked out how to bathe two toddlers and get them to bed within 2 hours now (just). This is a bit of a cliffhanger, as I'll share tomorrow..... (oooooooh, get me!)
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
No wonder I have to write everything down!
I clearly have too much on my mind. I started back at work this week, and whilst it's exciting, and great to be 'me' again for a few days each week, I appear to be losing my ability to think properly.
We left our freezer slightly open for, we think, a couple of days, before noticing it wasn't shut properly. So, as you'd expect, a whole load of food had to be thrown away, because even if it was OK, you just know I'd worry that it wasn't. OK, I hear you say, what's that got to do with not thinking? After all, anyone could make that mistake. You haven't heard the worst yet. Leaving the door open had ensured that it looked like there'd been a snowstorm in there; so I put down some towels, propped the door open, and left it to defrost.
The freezer is in the garage. It's one of two (don't ask). I went into the garage today to grab some food from the still-working freezer and happened to glance at the one I was defrosting. It was still frosty.
Hmm. I thought. That's taking a while. I suppose it has been cold the last few days though (our garage is freezing anyway.) And it took my brain a good couple of minutes to shout up enough for me to realise that it was still frosty because it was still turned on. The freezer door is wide open and I appear to be trying to freeze my entire garage. I dread to think what the electricity bill will look like.
I turned it off.
I think maybe I need more sleep.
We left our freezer slightly open for, we think, a couple of days, before noticing it wasn't shut properly. So, as you'd expect, a whole load of food had to be thrown away, because even if it was OK, you just know I'd worry that it wasn't. OK, I hear you say, what's that got to do with not thinking? After all, anyone could make that mistake. You haven't heard the worst yet. Leaving the door open had ensured that it looked like there'd been a snowstorm in there; so I put down some towels, propped the door open, and left it to defrost.
The freezer is in the garage. It's one of two (don't ask). I went into the garage today to grab some food from the still-working freezer and happened to glance at the one I was defrosting. It was still frosty.
Hmm. I thought. That's taking a while. I suppose it has been cold the last few days though (our garage is freezing anyway.) And it took my brain a good couple of minutes to shout up enough for me to realise that it was still frosty because it was still turned on. The freezer door is wide open and I appear to be trying to freeze my entire garage. I dread to think what the electricity bill will look like.
I turned it off.
I think maybe I need more sleep.
Tuesday, 25 August 2009
Super-duper Frazzled!
My computer has given up. Technology has beaten me and I'm going to have to wait another two weeks for a permanent replacement internet connection, since our last connection caused the computer meltdown in the first place. But it will not beat me down entirely! This post is likely to be the only one for two weeks I'm afraid, but I will be back. I have plenty of stories, and more importantly, my experiences and tips to share with you. My catastrophies will hopefully help you avoid the pitfalls I didn't! So please, keep checking, and when I'm back up and running I'll be posting at least twice a week.
In the meantime, I hope you mummies out there, who are highly likely to be maintaining the yummy mummy label far better than me, continue to laugh. After all; a friend of mine told me a story about two toddlers who found the washing-up liquid and poured it all over their mum's lounge carpet. Trying to clean it up with a damp cloth just created more and more and more bubbles. It was a nightmare. But, you know what, it was just bubbles. If we can laugh, we'll be alright!
In the meantime, I hope you mummies out there, who are highly likely to be maintaining the yummy mummy label far better than me, continue to laugh. After all; a friend of mine told me a story about two toddlers who found the washing-up liquid and poured it all over their mum's lounge carpet. Trying to clean it up with a damp cloth just created more and more and more bubbles. It was a nightmare. But, you know what, it was just bubbles. If we can laugh, we'll be alright!
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