It’s probably becoming clear that Sunday isn’t my favourite day of the week. I’m just recovering from a horribly hysterical twenty minutes and not ha, ha hysterical – this was real hysteria hysterical. Yesterday, I paid a visit to Poundland (Harvey Nichols gets so boring) and purchased, alongside two giant bars of Toblerone just for me, a bag of Lego like bricks for the boys. It was a big bag but filled with tiny pieces of the not quite genuine article and of course, I should have known better. The bricks didn’t stick together properly and so you couldn’t really make anything out of them but Louis and Theo seemed happy and quite entertained by this new pile of plastic giving me time to wolf down one too many nougaty triangles in the kitchen without being interrupted.
Fast forward to just after lunch today and we have carnage on our hands. I was in the kitchen scraping uneaten food into the bin and suddenly Jake lets out a cry for help from the living room. Louis had put a piece of the not Lego lego into his mouth. Okay, that’s pretty standard with toddlers and not really anything to write home about except that because of Jake’s rather extreme reaction suddenly we had a potential disaster on our hands. In response to their big brother’s panic Theo and Louis proceeded to tear around the room gleefully grabbing every piece of fake Lego they could find and shoving it in their mouths. They thought this was the best. game. ever. No sooner had I hooked one perfectly chokable piece out of a rascal’s mouth than his partner in crime would be rolling around on the floor chomping on two and reaching for a third. Jake and I were like two complete launatics, shrieking at them to stop and at each other to calm down. It must have looked like a scene out of Laurel and Hardy gone wrong with me wrestling Theo to the ground and Jake sat astride Louis and then one of us leaping over an upturned chair and crawling under the table to clear as many pieces of the stuff out of their reach as possible. Let me tell you, these boys are fast – they even gave Jake a run for his money. After what seemed like forever we eventually succeeded in gathering up all the offending pieces off the floor and, most importantly, out of Louis and Theo’s mouths. They carried on rolling around laughing their little socks off and might as well have been giving each other a high five so clear was it that they had won this particular round. The laughter turned to wretched sobs (theirs not mine) as I’m ashamed to say I marched into the kitchen and threw all of the pieces into the bin – the red, green, blue and pink little squares mingling alongside mince, pasta, teabags and yoghurt pots. Yes, I know, I know – just call me the Wicked Witch of the West. Another big, fat fail on my part. Want tips on how to create chaos and mayhem when it could so easily be avoided? I’m your woman.
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