Diary of a mum: (7) Too many willies

We’ve followed Claire Bates through three pregnancies, three births, breastfeeding, walking, talking and toddlerdom in triplicate.
You think she’d be getting better at it. Not a chance.

There are too many willies in my household. Seriously.
My three boys clearly have them, Bloke clearly has one (I know this because it’s his fault – and slightly that of buy-one-get-one free Chablis – that I have three children), the dog not-so-clearly has one (buried pathetically under dog-type ridiculously proportioned other bits) and now it seems, the flamin’ (grilled?) chickens have one each too. Perfect.
Numbers Two and Three did that badger, badger, pester, pester pincer move usually only reserved for the supermarket checkout when Mummy is ready to lay out the next person who says “would you like some help with packing?” when there is obviously no hope in supermarket hell that ‘multiskilled’ Maureen is gonna drag her polyester-clad ass off the Customer Services aka Chatting-To-Beefy-Security-Guard desk and actually perform a packing-type task. They whined, and whined and whined LOUDLY then deployed their toddler piece de la resistance – they looked cute – when they held the then fluffy, yellow, cheeping chicks at the local Rare (dead?) Breeds Farm.
Darn their cunning. No Mummy can resist cute.
And well, who’d have thought it? They were buy-one-get-one free…the chicks, that is, not my toddlers. I did try selling them once but it all resulted in a nasty social services run-in.
Ghastly – and you wouldn’t believe the form-filling.
So, we bring home four cutesome chicks and wide-eyed toddlers watch while Mummy finds a suitable box. How fortuitous that four chicks fit perfectly in a case of Chablis.
I dig the wind-up torch out of the cupboard under the stairs. It was easy to spot – right next to the tin of hard varnish, the Top Gun video, the Wii Fit (must dust that) and the matchpots. All useful stuff.
I think chicks are supposed to be warmed (simmered?) by a lightbulb but I don’t have one of those. Nor do most of my lights. Bloke away in Iraq, and that’s a ‘blue’ job. Am hoping he’ll be back before long, for all the health, safety and love reasons as well as for household chores, you understand.