An epic tale I share, one which may haunt forever more.
A perilous, fraught journey to the realms of “The Front Door”.
You’d think that two kids down now I’d be somewhat more prepared?
Or had at least the decency to feel a fraction scared?
But no. As wild and cocky as a stupid mum can be,
“Let’s all just nip to *somewhere*”
Was the sentence.
Said by me.
It started just like any day. The kids were aptly dressed.
They headed to the stairs with glee,
My smug face was impressed!
At this point in my story I should maybe add a point,
The layout of our townhouse is a smidgen out of joint.
The kitchen and the living room are up on the first floor,
The ground floor is for GOING OUT.
That’s really all it’s for.
There’s not a great deal down there but a plethora of shoes,
The garage and utility and stuff we never use.
So once they enter “Groundfloorland” the only way is out.
It’s quite a stressful region and it often makes me shout.
But off we ventured merrily, our happy tribe of three,
All ready for adventure, Master Tot, Miss Tot and me.
The Girl bounced down the stairs with very little care or woe,
So just The Boy to work on then, one down and one to go.
When suddenly the stairs somehow committed such a crime,
That meant they must be bounced upon.
One at a time.
I duly did my duty and stood by to hold his hand,
Whilst leaving Girl and Groundfloorland parentally unmanned.
I issued clear instructions: “Put your boots on please” I said.
But not one for conforming she put flip flops on instead.
Meanwhile, we’re half way down now when The Boy decides to stop.
I went to pick him up which lead to one almighty strop!
I dragged the “planking” offspring down and plonked him on the floor,
He wildly scrambled back upstairs to bounce on them once more.
The Girl meanwhile protested that her flip flops were just fine!
And totally appropriate for deep mid-wintertime.
With boots cajoled upon her she accepted her defeat,
And dragged them on ensuring they were each on the wrong feet.
The Boy had finished bouncing and was tearing round the hall,
Which isn’t fit for tearing as it’s really very small.
He found a pair of wellies which he modelled with great pride,
All coated thick in outdoor sludge,
Which made a trail inside!
I dashed to grab the vacuum and instructed them: “Sit there!”
They slouched across begrudgingly and sat upon the stair.
The Big One tried to vacuum but alas no mud was left.
She burst into a hissy fit, both livid and bereft.
The Boy meanwhile had somehow dropped his trousers to the knee,
Announcing with conviction that: right now he needs a wee.
I did a swear word silently.
The Girl’s a sulking mess.
The Boy was meanwhile “jumping” in a state of half undress.
To cure her vacuum envy I decided to ignore.
Whilst picking up The Boy before he peed upon the floor.
Disaster thus averted we returned to apply shoes.
Not bothering with coats as what’s the point?
They just refuse.
Despite it being January they could not give a toot.
And so with resignation I just chucked them in the boot.*
* The coats. Not the children.
At last, our quest was over and the handle could be reached,
The land of Outdoor beckoned and our boundary could be breached!
And thus we did appear, dishevelled, blinking at the sun,
Two tiny, mighty warriors plus battle-weary mum.
I sighed with sheer exhaustion and collapsed against the car.
Our Front Door destination seemed so near but yet so far?
Bewildered at how long a seven metre trip could take.
I knew not where to head to…
But I knew I needed cake!