Hack, Hack,Hack

Hack, hack, hack. Hack, hack, hack. Hack, hack, hack. The wee man's been on the Marlboro reds again and from personal experience I know they can make you sound rough. Not as rough though as some Cuban filterless cigarettes that I once smoked, they were something else and aged me about twenty years.

Anyway, he has developed one of those coughs that makes you want to reach down is throat and pull out all the mucus sitting on his lungs just so he stops making the horrible noise. I tried four times to nap him today and each time he slept for five minuted before hacking and hacking and waking himself up and then shouting at me that he was awake. Poor lad.

I even kept him away from his playgroup this morning as the parents would throttle me if their little ones got the wee man has, I wouldn't be welcome ever again. So we've been making our own entertainment today and luckily with The Chancellor taking a half day I haven't had to suffer too long with him. We did go to a chain of hardware stores where we spent a lot of money on paint and vinyl tiles for the bathroom floor. And because The Chancellor has the tenuous excuse of being pregnant I have to paint two large rooms and floor a bathroom over the bank holiday weekend.

The wee man didn't take too kindly to being ill and made to trawl around while we argued over the colour of our new bathroom tiles. Either he was really pissed off with life or he had seen something that was over priced and wanted to tell us because he a small meltdown near the lighting section. The joys of parenting.

Once we were home he had another meltdown because I wouldn't let him play with the tiles and the Stanley knife. Trying to teach a toddler the concept of danger is never going to work, he would though probably cut tiles better than me anyway and even if he did muck up The Chancellor would never shout at him whereas she would hit me with a mallet. The joys of marriage.


jpr