Get out of the dryer.

Yet another of those things that you couldn't possibly foresee ever saying, and yet once you have children becomes one of the trillion or so things that fall onto that list.

That list. The things you never thought you'd ever say. Many of those things fall under the category of "don't eat *insert random object that in no way resembles food nor would it even appear tasty*".

Other things you never thought you'd say, part 1 (I'm tipping there'll be approximately 4677 parts by the time I'm done).

"Don't pull Barbie's head off"

"Please stop sticking your head between my legs"

"Toothbrushes are not weapons" (although, theoretically, I could actually be wrong, if used correctly)

"Please don't run in mummy's shoes"

"No, we cannot go back to the hospital just to get a sticker" (following on from the nose smashing incident of 2012, another story entirely, which, as is evident, resulted in gratuitous giving of stickers to small children)

"That's not a spider it's cotton." "IT'S A BUG!" "It's cotton" (*picks up*) ""But it moved!" "That was because of the breeze." "BUT IT MOOOOOOOVED!" "Ok, I'll put it outside." "Thank you mummy".

Master 3 wanted to watch Bingo today. I got confused. I was wondering why on earth legs 11 was so appealing to him. "Bingo?" "Yes, Bingo". Wracking brain. Bingo?? Seriously?? "Do you mean Dumbo?" "YES!!!!"

He was firing on all cylinders today, Master 3. Not only did I have to tell him to get out of the dryer (it was not on, obviously), but he single handedly nearly gave me a heart attack when he sat on the back of the sofa, facing behind the sofa, then proceeded to just let himself fall back, bounced off his head and completely off the sofa onto the floor. Right beside the edge of the heater. No fear. None. He is the reason behind 90% of my newly acquired grey hairs. "Mum, watch this" strikes fear into my heart. He could be anywhere, doing anything, but odds are that that thing he is doing could, if executed improperly in any way, result in at the least a bruise, and at the worst a break. But some form of injury.

Miss 4 was injured today also, at the hands, or feet I should say, of Miss 5. Miss 5, when questioned about it, turned to Miss 4 and said "Well, why didn't you watch out for me??"

Yep. She could be a lawyer.

We went to the park today. It was a truly stunning day, the sun was shining, there was a lovely breeze (not a spider cotton moving kind of breeze, but a breeze nonetheless). The kids ran around madly, I watched them, and Miss 5, for only the second time ever, managed to do the whole monkey bars without assistance (massive achievement!). Then I cracked out the bubbles. Kids love bubbles. I love bubbles. How can anyone not like bubbles?? And it was windy. Not just breezy. I was mistaken. So bubbles were everywhere.

And after the bubbles were done, Miss 5 says "I have to go to the toilet". This, in a park where no toilets are to be found. Anywhere. So I say "Well you'll just have to wait because there are no toilets here." She pipes up "Well, I can go behind that tree". Sigh. "Ok miss, you can go behind the tree. Let's go."

So we get behind tree, suitably hidden from the other people enjoying the day in the park, and Miss 5 whips down the pants. She squats. And I say "Are you doing wees?" And she looks at me, straight in the eye, and says "I need to do poo."

Oh god. No.

So I say "We're going home right now!!!" and hastily pull her pants up before there is an unfortunate incident, wherein she says, "Oh, it's ok, I can hold on."

Good lord child you are ageing me by the second.

Leaving the park was a less than pleasant experience today too. It commenced before the leaving actually began, when I beckoned to Miss 4 to come with me to get more sunscreen applied (she burns terribly easily), and as she came towards me I yelled out "Don't walk behind the swings". Being Miss 4 she opted not to listen and was promptly cleaned up by Miss 5 on the back swing.

And when I tried to help her I was met with "No!! Don't!! Leave me alone!!!" Because she a) didn't want to admit that she hadn't listened and by her not listening it hadn't ended well and b) she was embarrassed at being cleaned up in public. The c) is because she is a middle child and why the hell not.

We made it out of there alive though. This time. And went home and painted nails. And made home made pizzas on a base of puff pastry. It's a great idea. The kids get involved, making their own pizzas up, and when they are involved in the food preparation 9 times out of 10 it results in them eating more. With puff pastry pizza bases though it also looks as though a puff has been brutally murdered by the end of it. Puff. Crumbs. Everywhere.

I guess at least it makes the vacuuming experience a good one.