Chickie The Unmerciful

The other great thing that happened last week was that Accountant got a taste of 'full time' parenting. After just one day of sole Chickie charge, the cracks beneath Accountant's "skipping through daddydum" facade were starting to show.

Previously, before I knew better, I turned to Accountant for comfort after Chickie had been in one of his unco-operative moods. "He's two, what do you expect?" came the comfort.

Determined to be just as supportive as him, I sat chuckling to myself from the other room, thoroughly enjoying the girly sound of his pointless pleas for his son's mercy.

"NO!" "PUT THAT DOWN!" "STOP IT!" "GET DOWN!" "OW!" "SAY SORRY" requested to a backdrop of slapping, drumming, thudding and shrieking. Poor Accountant could barely keep up with his own list of orders. At one point I thought he might actually cry.

Of course, the three packs of Smarties I gave Chickie for breakfast could of been a contributing factor but hopefully Accountant learnt his lesson.

P.S. Dear Social Services, I didn't really give him three packs of Smarties. He had Weetabix x