That's ok, I really wanted to spend more time with you!

Against my better judgement I put the sleeping toddler in bed before the big boys were in bed.

Yes, they all share a room.

Yes, that's pretty novel.

That's right, we are kind of crazy, but the mortgage repayments are a pittance and I can sleep easily at night...unless the children are doing as children sometimes do and disturb my sleep, but that's another post!

Anyway, yeehaa! Sleeping toddler! How heavenly that I could do stories without being headbutted and/or climbed on and off and on and off and on off of the whole time!

As B1 and B2 were going to bed I foolishly say: "Be quiet so you don't wake Mr 1."

In Fouryearoldboy that translates to: stage whisper even louder than your regular speaking voice, require extra reading material which you should definitely drop rather loudly, muck around with your big brother and generally make a pain of yourself in order to wake the sleeping babe.

Mission accomplished!

And you've made mum irate too, good job!

Believe it or not, half an hour of sleeping is PLENTY for a toddler who has only managed a half an hour nap all day and been completely crabby for 99% of the afternoon/evening. It's party time!

I sat with Mr 1 patting his back, willing him to go back to sleep.

Nuh-uh, things to do, things to touch and see!

I snuggled him, nuh-uh, I am toddler let, me mischief!

I'm without other adult company tonight, so my night was going to involve a movie which my husband would not watch without complaining, a date with a hair removal device followed up by stinking the house out with some nail polish. Instead my date is with the folding and this...

It's for his own safety...I can't strangle his cute face very easily back there.

Sigh.

Well Played Arsenic Hour. Well Played.

"Play outside for 10 minutes, I'll get you some dinner after that."

The problem with housework is: no-one does it while you are working outside in the yard. This, was paticularly the case this evening as dinner time approached and my kitchen resembled (some kind of witty analogy which I'm too tired to think of now.).

Anyway I've fobbed the kids off for 10 minutes and am wildly scrubbing vulcanised cornflakes off breakfast bowls when I hear the unmistakeable wails of an "I'm-really-hurt-this-time" boy. 

Mr 4 is injured. It's something to do with his toe and the dog and the trampoline, but between the wailing and the tears and the snot..."here, just pop it in this sink full of cold water".

Mr 5 is wanting to know if it's 10 o'clock yet, if it's food time yet. Mr 1 is climbing the kitchen bench and picking up everything in sight. 

 "Would you like breakfast for dinner?" I ask while googling 'injured toenail treatment' and removing Lego from the toddlers mouth.

"YES!!!" Is the cry of ecstasy....so nice to know cornflakes beat practically anything I cook.

Anyway, I'm dumping cereal and milk into those bowls I just cleaned and Mr 4 is screaming at me because it's been longer than 2 seconds and I'm clearly not coming back. 

Inspection of the wound reveals a jagged tear down the centre of the nail. Dr Google suggests cut off the jagged edges, band aids and Panadol...easy. Except I said, we need to cut it off...What kind of idiot says that? CUE ONE WAY TICKET TO HYSTERIA-LAND.

That's ok, I've got lollipops, and look that doesn't even hurt when I use these special scissors, does it?!

Here, have a cool bandage too and you want sprinkles on your cornflakes too...no problem!

Sugar saves the day again...now, where's the secret stash of Emergency Chocolate for mum?!