Thursday, 29 September 2016

Milk and alcohol...

I haven't yet received a reply to my carefully worded letter to the over zealous traffic warden.  I picture him sitting at his desk surrounded by begging letters, tapping each one to the tune of Eeenie Meenie Minie Mo with his chewed biro, before deciding which one will be let off.  I'm not holding out much hope to be honest with you.

Son number two finally surfaced yesterday, calling me just as I was thinking of texting him the words all mums send to their kids every now and again....'Are you still alive?'  Well it turns out he's having a wonderful time (drinking), has met some great people (while drinking) and is loving his housemates (who all go drinking with him).  He's loving the 30 minute walk to his university as it gives him time to sober up.  Well that's encouraging I suppose, at least he's stopping drinking long enough to learn some new stuff. 

He's coming home this weekend for The Siblings' Big Night Out.  I think he's looking at this week as training before going out with the older ones, who are well versed in the demon drink. The husband and I, although not invited to join them on this night of debauchery have decided not to book anything for Saturday night.  We need to be here as we may be needed to do things...

1.  Open the front door at 4.00am as none of them would have thought to take a key ( still no spare in the Key Safe, so no good looking in there)
2. Steer son number two towards the downstairs loo.
3. Stop daughter number two from cooking a three course meal (she always has the munchies)
4. Lay out the Anadin and glasses of water on the kitchen worktop.
5.  Try to stop daughter number one talking.  This is a problem when she is sober, but when drunk, she achieves words per minute which could get a place in the Guinness Book of World Records.
6. The husband and I have never seen son number two the worse for drink.  This is because he is very careful when and where he does it.  This Saturday, there will be no place to hide, so we could be in for a nasty shock.
7. Get son number two out of the downstairs loo and put him to bed.
8. Share the burnt pizza which daughter number two has prepared (when drunk, she always forgets that she is gluten intolerant - half an hour later she'll be moaning about developing a 'food baby')
9. Get son number one and daughter number one into bed.  Daughter number one will still be talking at this point.  I have a feeling that son number one will need to be helped upstairs by the husband.
10. Go back into the kitchen, where daughter number two is clutching her bloated stomach, whilst eating cornflakes (also not gluten free )

I reckon we'll be back in bed by about 5.49am.  Just about the time the alarm, which the husband will have forgotten to silence, will go off.

You know the saying about 'if you can't beat them, join them'?  Well I am going to suggest to the husband that we break open the bottle of Grey Goose which is in my hoover cupboard (I know.  This makes no sense whatsoever).  I reckon that if we start drinking that around 10.00pm, we should sleep through the whole lot, and will wake up at around 9.30am only to find all four kids sleeping in their cars.

Now that's a good idea.....
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