My thoughts were, one, take a deep breath, laugh, say, "Opps silly mummy!" and sweep them up. Two, erupt. I chose two. I couldn't contain it. Really, I couldn't. And out it came! Wooosh! Nasty, childish, horrible words and accusations and fault blaming. All directed at my clever, polite, sweet, but not-as-on-top-of-his-assignments-as-he-could-be, boy. Oh dear. I've said it before, but sometimes I do think I should of just stuck to raising cats...
Sunday, 20 October 2013
mid life tantrums
Do you suffer from tantrums? I do. I had one this morning. After spending a lovely restlessful couple of hours, reading, topping up my tan by the pool. I came inside for lunch, discovered my first born had been reading all morning and outspewed a rant about homework and deadlines and getting your priorities right (like a bloody broken record). Then I accidentally knocked the cheesy biscuits tin off the side of the kitchen counter and we both stood in silence for a moment, staring at the broken biscuits all over the floor, waiting for my reaction to come... would it be nice mummy or horrible mummy?