Scene: The Soup Bedroom, 7.05 am
Mr Soup is sitting up meditating, as you do at the crack of dawn if that sort of thing takes your fancy.
I open my eyes.
And spy a rainbow on the wall as the sun shines through the glass vase full of pink lilies on the chest of drawers nearby.
I whisper "There’s a rainbow in our bedroom. It must be a good omen."
Scene: The Soup Kitchen (ahahahaha), 7.20 am.
I am packing school lunches and the boys, who get up far too early for my liking so have to entertain themselves, are drawing and tracing knights from a book.
Mr Soup descends the stairs, fresh from his meditation. He kisses me good morning and a stray bristle stabs my upper lip.
I jump back, rubbing my lip. "Ow!"
Mr Soup: Did I zap you?
Me: No, you prickled me.
Mr Soup: That’s what happens when you kiss a man, baby.
Me: Well, I’ll just kiss little boys then. (Turning and kissing Son #1’s childish, soft, bristle-free lips).
Son #1: (Kissing me back, tenderly). You have a pimple, Mummy. Right there. (Gently touches my chin).
Me: Thanks for pointing that out, child.
Mr Soup: (smirking) That’s what happens when you mess with little boys, my sweet. Karma.
In other news,
I have been considering compiling one of those 100 Things About Me lists.
It seems kind of narcissistic, but I do so love reading other peoples’.
But I need help. Where do I put it?, bearing in mind that I am technically dyslexic and do not have one of those tech-whizz husbands to help with the fiddly bits. (Can you tell I didn’t meet my husband on the internet? Mr Soup’s view of the internet is gleaned from the media and so he believes it is populated solely by child molesters, serial rapists, white slave traders and wizards called Merlin. Oh yeah, and me).
So, do I just post it as a normal daily post and then put a link to it on my sidebar, or what? Help me, ALL of you, please. If hardly anyone responds I will assume you don’t want to hear another hundred crappy details about me and my predilection for roses and red shoes, or learn more about the minutiae of my suburban housewife life in the southern hemisphere.
And I'll just go hang my washing out and sulk.