Parenting highlights from yesterday:
Me: I have to take this frypan back to the LBT, can you wash up the lunch dishes Zoe?
DB: [pulling off her headphones] Wha?
Me: I have to take this frypan back to the LBT, can you wash up the lunch dishes DB?
DB: But you said Zoe.
Z: But you never wash up. Can you do them this time?
DB: But she said Zoe, ZOE. And I do wash up…
Z: [massive eyeroll and sigh combo] Can’t you just DO iT?
Me: One of you just do it, I’m going…
DB: I’m not doing it, you said Zoe.
Z: [snaps] DAISY! YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE SHITHEAD!!
DB: [thoroughly outraged] DON’T YOU EVER CALL ME THAT. NO ONE SAYS THAT TO ME.
Z: Then WASH. THE. DISHES.
DB: [runs over and hits her] AAAAAAAH
Z: DON’T YOU DARE YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE SMELLBALL. [Thumps her back.]
DB: [Mimicking her in the most annoying way possible] Don’t-you-DARE-you-horrible-little-smellball…
[A genuine scuffle breaks out. With many “I hate you’s” and “You are the WoRST sister’s” – meanwhile….]
Me: [throws a leg over the safety rope, scoots across the next boat and off on to the jetty where I start running. Halfway I glance back and see, as expected, DB jumping off the boat and running in pursuit. I kick up a gear, swerve around to the right before the footbridge, and – unashamedly – hide in a bush while DB, cartoon style, runs right past over the bridge and away… she returns a few minutes later, moving slower and looking savage. I watch her head back to the boat and briefly ponder her fate there. Then I head in the opposite direction.
My plan? To head to the cafe to get a loaf of bread before proceeding to the block and mowing it. However, karma. I run into my friend who I hardly ever see any more because she has moved out of town and we are both busy. We chat – I am right outside the cafe. M pulls up in the car and says he’s off to buy some rust converter, then leaves. We chat. I am praying there is bread left. Zoe appears on her bike. My friend comments that it seems DB has managed to get the boat to herself. I send Zoe to the cafe to check on the bread situation. There is one loaf left. I try to extricate myself from the conversation, to no avail.
Faaaark. The others follow my gaze to the guy who has just walked out the door with the last loaf of gluten free bread. The best bread. The bread that was going to keep me happy until Tuesday. Gaaaaaaah.]