Sandwich Short of a Picnic

We’ve had a busy weekend.  We always have a busy weekend when its kid time.  Mainly because the Harridan books him into all this stuff in the hope that he will start to have friends come over.  The issue with the gingerbread house, no privacy and the lack of technology obviously hasn’t registered in her head.  I’ve said my peace, now it’s up to the Moodle to attempt to bludgeon her with some reality.  Of course we all know how that will end.

So Friday I’m at jury duty and the Squeeze is at a funeral in hippy land.  From there, it’s grab the kid, take him to table tennis (try booking him into something cool may help…) and home at about 9pm.  A long day ending with the dragging of the stupid saxophone into the house where I say it has to go to the laundry.  It’s never played when here; the only thing it has managed to do is fall over and put a dent in the wall.  I see it as a test.  If the kid doesn’t willingly go and pick it up, unprovoked, then he’s not interested so perhaps she can cease the 3 private lessons per week and the demand for more money to pay for it.

Note:  It hasn’t moved from the laundry – and I’ve made it visible from the door…

Then it’s up and off to the soccer (with my point scoring oranges).  Then since they are on that side of town, they call in and have coffee with kid 2 before I text him a list of organic stuff he has to get at the market on his way home.

They straggle in the door about 2pm.  So far, the whole weekend has been about the Squeeze doing stuff with/for the kid.  Truth tell, I’m fine with that.  That is how it should be when you are a parent and aside from that, it gives me a moment of ‘me’ time so I can clean the damned house before the lazy swine come back through the door and start to leave stuff everywhere again.  Leave stuff around they will do, but at least the kid is still making the bed - including mimicking my cute little fold at the top.

So we sit down to finish watching ‘The Godfather’ - we’d started the night before but got too tired to finish, so decided intermission was the way to go.

Then then it starts.  A text at 3.55:40.

‘If you thought of only yourself again and didn’t take kid 3 to grading night or talked him out of it you’ve fucked up big time'         [please note that spell check corrected her illiterate crap]

WTF?  She is obviously not all there. Thought of himself..?  Again???  

When has he ever been allowed to do that..?