Yesterday was April 1 and I got up bright and early to get my April Fool's play in motion. I barked out loud to Iulia and Loki my prank, and Matilda overheard me from her bedroom.
It says something about my eldest son that the bit no one was disputing was the possibility he had an irremovable object inserted into his bottom. I've clearly raised him well.
I advised Matilda that she may earn the title 'Carrot Arse' when she goes back to school, but she replied 'there's already somebody called that'. Jesus, why? I asked. 'Because he stuck a carrot up his bum on the Duke of Edinburgh Award away trip and then ate it'.
Even if that is only half true, it's still something you don't want in your mind. And that's just an off-the-cuff remark to Matilda, a tiny incident in a catalogue of hundreds, built up from chats with her friends every day about much, much worse.
Anyway, the moral of this story, if there is one, is always wash your carrots before you eat them.
I got a text from Kaye this morning asking how the carrot surgery went 🤦♀️
None of this surprises me!