The Sounds of Silence

I may be quite close to losing my marbles. Only yesterday I posted a load of pictures of a camping trip the family and I had been on. I titled the pictures "Edmonston, Essex" only to be told by my chortling Wife that we hadn't been in Edmonston or Essex , because that place doesn't exist. We'd been in Edwardstone. In Suffolk.

I don't feel bad about this for two reasons. Firstly because I once spent four days in Amsterdam with a friend who thought he was in Copenhagen the whole time (which at least clarified why he thought bacon was the Dutch national dish and kept constantly asking where the statue of the little mermaid was "because she's hot.")

Secondly; have you seen the shit I deal with? Take today, for instance...

A rare and wondrous thing happened when I got home fromon work today. When I opened the door instead of entering a screaming whirlpool of entropy, I was greeted with silence. The purest absence of sound. It felt like the start of your average apocalypse movie, as I wandered around the land marks of my house boggling at the vacuum the lack of my Kids created.

It was freaking brilliant. Right up until I looked up the stairs and saw this.

Is it...looking...right at me...?

I backed away slowly and went to the sofa. My arse had barely kissed the seat when there was a hammering noise on the front door, which promptly opened and vomited the Girl and Boy hollering into the quiet of the house. The Girl ran up to me, yelled ;

"Daddeeeeeee!"

And, wielding a bottle of water hit me squarely in the penis. I took this manfully by saying "Oof!" and slowly curling up into a ball before falling off the sofa. At this point the Boy arrived.

"Dad, I learnt what a baby swan is called today."

"Nnnngg..."

I replied. Unfazed, the Boy continued.

"It's called a maggot."

"...no...isn't..."

The Boy face palmed.

"Aw, man. I got it wrong! It's called a magnet."

So lets be clear on this. I have yet to write my name on the wall in my own excrement yet, and for that I should be commended.