Tricky and Bobbin are now of an age where they don't need 24/7 supervision, and I must say, it's lovely to have come to the light at the end of the high dependency tunnel. I can go to the toilet and not worry she's climbed on top of the four wheel drive like she did when she was just about to turn two. I can do some work in the study and not have to stop to wipe a bum.
So after MG and I had a particularly late Saturday night a few weeks ago we thought we could just stay in bed on Sunday morning and let the kids entertain themselves. I mean, what could they possibly get up to?
Famous last words. Here's what went down:
I was in bed, my eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep and I could hear the kids playing. In my memory of this, my hair falls in tendrils around my serene face as the slightest smile plays on my lips, and I dream about running in to Chris Hemsworth at the shops and having a chat (because in my dream we're old friends). In reality my face was smooshed on the pillow, with a little puddle of drool, and my hair looking like a bird nest.
They were playing so nicely and I was thinking of how, in that very moment, life was pretty good. I love recognising those little times. The boring moments that are somehow magical because I'm surrounded by the people (MG, Tricks and Bobbin) and things (my bed) I love.
After about an hour or so I thought I should probably get up. Again, in my memory it's like a movie. I stretch lightly and slip out of bed, placing a silk dressing gown around me. In reality, I yawn so wide my jaw cracks, my eyes are puffy and I am wearing an old, stained maternity singlet with one boob threatening to pop out (and not in a good way). And right now I'm wondering how on earth the romance is still alive in my relationship.
I headed to our bathroom and found Bobbin looking at herself in the mirror, pretending to put makeup on with my brushes.
"Oooh what are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm a famous singer, I'm getting ready for another concert. I'm Libby" she said, referencing a LEGO Friends movie.
"Excellent. Can't wait to hear it, Bobbin."
She glared at me.
"Sorry, I meant Libby!"
Appeased, she continued on as I leaned over to give her a kiss on top of her head. When I stood up I noticed that our towels had been taken off the rail and were in a pile on the floor.
"What happened to my towels?" I asked, still half asleep.
"I couldn't get the microphone to stop buzzing so I covered it." she replied.
OH. FUCK.
No. No. No. No. NO!
I knew exactly what this meant.
Immediately wide awake, I lifted the towels to find the still-buzzing star of the aforementioned late night for MG and I: my, ahem, "body massager".
My sweet, innocent Bobbin had been pretending to be a purple haired LEGO rockstar, singing in to my vibrator for god knows how long. In her defence, it really does look like a microphone.
I had accidentally left it on our bathroom sink after washing it and then passing out asleep the night before, so there is the tiniest sliver of a silver lining here in that it was at least squeaky clean.
I switched it off, mumbling something about how it must be broken and I'll get rid of it. So far, she hasn't asked for her 'microphone' back and I'm hoping it stays that way!
Have your kids ever found something they shouldn't have?
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