In which we learn the alphabet…

  • A is for Arse. Both of The Boys seem terribly keen to get theirs out as often as possible. It’s a charming trait.
  • B is for Bathtime. Aquatic carnage of the highest order that involves a delightful combination of splashing, willie-waving, flailing, screaming and somehow flooding the fucking bathroom. At least they don’t shit in the water any more.
  • C is for Car journeys. The Big One has two settings in the car; 1) throwing up 2) talking endlessly so I have to crane my head around to hear him and end up with a medical condition I believe to be called “Mother’s Neck”. This can only be treated with gin.
  • D is for Drinking shop. I love that The Boys enjoy the pub. Once they have a Fruit Shoot and some Quavers, we can pass a merry hour like proper human beings.
  • E is for Elephants. The Little One remains obsessed. It’s both sweet and quite annoying. He also calls all elephants Geoff, a fact that makes both me and the red-headed Auntie very proud.
  • F is for Fuck. I’m quite sweary (you may have noticed) so not being able to shout “fuck!” when I want to is quite annoying. I just swear more at work than ever to make up for it. I’m agog that I still have a job.
  • G is for Grandparents. Thank God for Grandparents! A splendid mix of babysitter, children’s entertainer, sweetshop, novelty playground owner, Drinking Shop, and psychologist, we’d be properly fucked without them.
  • H is for Hungry. They are ALWAYS hungry…unless I put a bloody meal on the table in which case they take one look at it and declare themselves full up. Dicks.
  • I is for “It’s not fair!” A phrase I currently hear about 47 times a day from the Little One. And occasionally from the Big One who seems to think it’s fun to join in.
  • J is for Just about managing. We seem to be hanging on by the skin of our teeth most of the time. As far as I can tell, The Boys aren’t particularly psychologically damaged at this point and most of the time we have clean-ish clothes and no one is actively bleeding so I reckon we’re doing ok.
  • K is for “Knickers”. I find this to be an excellent alternative to proper swear words. Give it a try. You’re welcome.
  • L is for Llama. I like llamas. One of the good things about having kids is that you go to zoos where you can see llamas. This make me happy.
  • M is for “Mummy”. Or more accurately “Mummy? Mummy? Mummy? Mummeeeee? Mummy? Muuuuuuuummeeeee”. In stereo. FFS.
  • N is for “No!” I say or shout this 3000 times a day. Every. Fucking Day. I am so utterly weary of hearing myself say no, I could cry.
  • O is for Owls. As in “Victory is Owls!!” A brilliantly wrong phrase uttered by the Big One recently when he won something. He looked a bit hurt when I nearly pissed myself laughing.
  • P is for Poo. The most frequently uttered word in the house. An endless source of total hilarity – a fact which I do not expect to change at any point in the next ten years.
  • Q is for “Quickly!” Completely pointless utterance that I really should just give up on because I might as well be bellowing “Wensleydale” at them to get them out of the house in the morning for all the sodding good it does.
  • R is for Rhymes (nursery). The Little One remains obsessed with Humpty Dumpty and Hickory Dickory Dock. Every day involves an hour-long, in-depth discussion on the narrative, possible variations, and his warped interpretation of the overall meaning. It’s an absolute joy.
  • S is for socks. They are fucking EVERYWHERE. Move the coffee table – socks. Wedged down the back of a radiator – socks. Behind the sofa – socks. Why can socks not just be on their fucking feet? And Mr H is no better for inventing “sock bombs”, an incredibly clever game where you roll up socks and throw them at each other until there are no bloody socks left anywhere. Dick.
  • T is for Tantrums. The Little One outdid himself today. He asked what his name would have been if he’d been a girl, then threw a massive tantrum because he didn’t like it. FFS.
  • U is for Umpire. The Boys get on quite well but still fall out approximately 73 times a day, requiring significant amounts of adjudication. In my role as umpire, I find the following responses most useful “Really? Tell him to stop then.”, “Well, just stay out of his way” and “Put your pants back on and he won’t be able to bite your arse”.
  • V is for Vasectomy. Because most of the time, two children is too many for me. More would be catastrophic.
  • W is for Wine. The only reason any of us are still alive, frankly.
  • Nothing starts with X. Don’t be stupid.
  • Y is for Yoghurt. Surprisingly mission-critical for a sweetened dairy product.
  • Z is Zzzz. Because one thing I can say of The Boys is that they sleep well. Thank Christ. They get something from their mother.


Letters to my Daughter  


8 thoughts on “In which we learn the alphabet…

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  1. Haha, excellent! I can’t relate to the willie-waving having a daughter myself, but the rest sounds about right.
    And congratulations because someone loved this post so much, they added it to the #BlogCrush linky! Feel free to collect your “I’ve been featured” blog badge 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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