Sunday sunday...
Yesterday morning, James announced that he "simply must" go into the office! Well, I cannot claim for one minute that I am not influenced by the comments I receive on this blog, and as NumberOneScumMum so kindly pointed out recently: James is off doing "God knows what" at work for most of his waking hours, so I just had to take action...
I suggested that James should take Max with him to work. Well, Sunday is meant to be a family day, a day of rest. The children are on their school holidays, and have the expectation of spending time with their parents after all.
We have some super high flying neighbours, Melissa and Timothy. Their older son Christoph left Dulwich College only last summer with wonderful A level results and has not raised a finger since. A gap year is all very well and good, but this boy will not even answer the door to the dog walker or the cleaner. Melissa has left her spare set of keys with our au pair Ana, Christoph is a disgrace!
If Melissa and Timothy are not careful, Christoph's gap year may turn into a gap life. Everything is handed to their golden boy on a plate; a car, snow boarding, tropical holidays, designer clothes and a generous allowance.
I have expressed my concerns to James about his wish to retire imminently - should his wonderful current dream deal come off. What kind of male role model will the children have? They could grow up - the equivalent of children with a father on welfare, seeing their father loll about the home all day, drawing money from the hole in the wall.
James will tell me he is building a pigeon loft in the back garden next. OVERMYDEADBODY!!! How can he just stop earning a living at forty. Surely he can never have earned enough money to retire? He was not shopping with me in Regent Street yesterday - I got the most amazing blouse from Jaeger's window.
If James does not work, why should I?
"Take The Boy Wonder to work with you while you still can", I pleaded.
My darling Max tells me everything that goes on during his day - every evening. He is a shy and gentle boy by nature, but while eating supper each evening, my perfect son gives me every delicious detail of the day, breath by breath.
James was by all accounts working at his office today. One of only four men in the entire building, he really is the man of my dreams.
I was just making sure...
I took Freya to Hamleys to buy Barbie and her incontinent cat. Now Freya has two Barbies, and my son is preoccupied with the bodily functions of both of the dolls' domestic pets.
7 comments:
Hasn't James heard of remote working yet?
Why not build a garden room in your garden - James can just trot down to the end of the garden to work and then you and the kids can have family picnics there on break times.
Or you and James can use it for more adult pleasures when he has a moment between conference calls?
Is a garden room the same as a shed?
My dear Scruffy Mummy,
James has his son and heir. The only 'adult pleasure' I am prepared to indulge in is shopping - and I certainly do not need a room in the garden for that!
Okay, why is Mattel suddenly so obsessed with little plastic animals that pee and poop? Why is this Barbie's new sidekick? Where on earth is Ken, oh-he-of-the-vague-plastic-bump?
I love that the ad specifies that the Barbie "scoops up the clumps". I think I'll avoid this Barbie - I'm trying to teach my daughter that cleaning the litter box is daddys' work.
Really, whatever happened to the good old days when Barbie and her non-animal friends had orgies in the Barbie Van.
Dear Numberonemum,
A garden room is an all singing, all dancing garden shed - with electrics, room for laptop, desk, dreaming and whatever else rocks your boat!!
I thank the Evil Empire that is The City that my husband does not work from home. Then he would find out that although I claim to be slaving all day, scrubbing the floors and folding laundry, in fact I faff about on the interweb and watch daytime telly.
However, the article in Times 2 yesterday really scared me into polishing my old CV....
oh dulwichmum, your stories make me pine, pine I tell you, and if any of those damn northerners have followed me here pine is a verb as well as a noun you know. Oh gawd DM, you don't know what I have to put up with in the north. Thank goodness I can find some solace here. Hope you don't mind me dropping by, you won't even notice me I promise, I'm so blue most of the time you won't see me against your background, sigh
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