Tag Archives: Mothers day

Mothers Day result

The day started off not so well, awoken at 6.00am by a spy in the room in the form of Aden (captured and questioned he revealed “spy”, the only word I actually understood, in my half asleep state). I’m not sure if it was the opening and closing of cupboard doors, the farting, or the creeping around that gave him away. Time for his tablet I informed his half asleep dad. However, Secret Agent Work being unfinished, he headed back into my room…

I have problems normally waking him at 6.30am on a school day, yet in the holidays or at weekends he’s up. Bright eyed and bushy-tailed. Not only that but today he’s full of enthusiasm for a shower. Something that usually requires ultra sonic persuading powers.

Finally, the running water stopped and I started to drift back to sleep, only for a moment though, as Akasha bounced into the room and announced my banishment from the kitchen. I may go to the loo if necessary, but under no circumstances down the stairs. She spiritedly informed me that a surprise was being prepared, but I’d be able to eat it in bed. Then she declared she’s done well in ‘Operation Work’ and I gathered that she was in on Aden’s spy project.

I stayed put, as instructed by my warden guardian. Trying to catch a sniffle of sleep here and there. But to no avail. Bouncing on the bed and dozing off for forty winks in the same bed, just don’t fit.

After a while, Joni and Lori entered the room armed with coffee and the most delicious crepes. Apparently the little one was not supposed to wake me, instead, to keep watch outside the door!

Still, the body shop goodies, hair clip and especially the penguin figure hand-made in clay, courtesy of Lori, delivered me into the land of the living.

Hubby later entered the dough splattered kitchen and rustled up a delicious banoffee pie.

And at some point in the afternoon I finally clicked that Aden had not become a spy, but had tried to find the foot SPA in my wardrobe as a special treat.

If only I would listen properly.


Mothering Sunday approach

Thank crunchie it’s Friday. Oh sorry Cadbury’s, I mean, the weekend is upon us and I’m truly joyful. Tomorrow I plan to sleep past 7am and the fact that it’s Mothering Sunday on well, Sunday, here in Germany, does not mean, dear slightly smaller ones, that you should wake me at an un-eye-openable-time, bouncing on my bed with home-made/school-made/Kindergarten-made cards either.

Akasha, remember you hid one of your several home-made pictures under the footstool in the kitchen, you know, the one with the stickers on it? I didn’t look. I promise. I averted my eyes from the surprise that you told me all about. I carefully hoovered around the object, eyes half closed, despite your sister Lori having just shattered a good glass, and splinters reaching far and wide. Perhaps you could be careful when you retrieve your picture? Just in case.

I’d also like to point out that I would like breakfast in bed. Yes. But before you start please reread the first paragraph. Eggs are good. But whites should be white. The clue is in the name. Coffee is good. Especially when still warm. Cake in the afternoon is even better.

Massages are welcome. As are fetching and carrying all the items that I request. Taking the position of a footstool, by getting down on all fours, so I have somewhere to rest my weary legs, would be highly appreciated. The remote control is mine. Bubble baths are heavenly. Me cooking dinner is strictly forbidden.

    no other
cooked egg
presents 😀
 thank you!!