I'm ready to sit down in my usual chair near the Husband and put Puff the Fiddly Dragon together, so I begin to gather my equipment. Sides of dragon - check! Crochet needle(ugh) for the dragon spine - check! Yarn to crochet with - check! Cool folding scissors that I purloined from Mom that I know I left right here on the table next to my usual chair - bloody hell!!!
God knows I love my children, but I think we've been spending too much time together lately. They have this horrible habit of picking up things of mine, fiddling with them, and putting them down where ever and when ever the spirit moves them. Naturally, I went on the "Leave my stuff alone - I don't mess with your stuff except to pick it up off the floor and put it where it belongs" rampage, when the Husband calmly asks me, "Did you cram them up your arse?"(I tend to cuss in CanaBritspeak - I think it sounds nicer.)
"No, I didn....WHAT?"
Evidently, when he and his sister were children and my always blunt mother-in-law couldn't find something that they had fiddled with, she would shout, "Maybe I should have crammed it up my arse, that way you couldn't mess with it and I'd know where it is!"
I found the scissors buried in Mt. Laundray-to-be-folded on the sofa, and school starts in 23 more days.
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