So there I am, flying about the shops getting through a list as long as my arm, all before both kids demanded their naps. The boy shouted and screamed the whole time. I’ve learned to ignore and just hope I don’t get judgemental stares as he flops about in the Out’N’About.
Anyways I’m unloading the buggy and I find a pack of paint brushes that I clearly didn’t buy. The little terrorist robbed them from the DIY store.
Mortified as I was, I rang the DIY store to apologise for robbing the brushes.
‘Oh hey yes, your that blogger girl aren’t you, I read your toddler post and the poo one the other day…’.
Great she knows who I am, she’s called the guards already…
‘I’d recognise the little fella’s face anywhere, you’re not joking when you say he’s loud, are you?’.
FML why can’t I just write into a diary or something…
‘Ah your grand, I actually seen him with them and kind of knew if we took them from him he would have had a conniption fit’.
‘Say nothing, have a nice day’.
I love you…
So there you have it, the boy is one, the boy is a thief.