In which Steve infers I fancy a child

Me: Michael Douglas, Heather Graham, Jaden Smith, Will Smith and Bradley Cooper! Graham Norton has a hell of a sofa tonight.

Steve: That is a line up.

Me: Jaden Smith grew up didn't he? He is a good looking boy. Only 14 but a cutie.

Steve: Yeah I suppose.

The show continues.

Me: See, now I love Will Smith, you know I love Will Smith, he has always been on my freebie list but you know what, looking at this sofa, I think he would move into second place. Yes, I think I would definitely do Bradley Cooper before Will Smith!

Steve: Thank god you said Bradley Cooper. I was worried for a second there.

Frazzled

Steve is going to take Rex for a walk and so see Grandma and Grandpa while I do some proofing.

I get Rex in his coat, fill up his beaker, check the change bag and find two blankets ready. Steve comes out of the bathroom. We head downstairs and outside to get the pram out of the car and set it up. Just then the music of an ice cream van starts playing. Steve is very excited. The van appears.

Steve: I am getting an ice cream! Do you want one?

He hands the baby to me and runs to the van, leaving me with the boot open and a wriggling Rex in one arm.

Steve to the ice cream man: I think I will have a cornetto please...

I try and lift the pram out of the boot.

Steve to the ice cream man: No... wait... is that a Feast?

The pram catch releases mid lift and the wheels land on my toes. Rex tries to grab the car keys from my other hand.

Steve to the ice cream man: No, sorry, changed my mind, I will just have a vanilla cone.

I try and click the pram up, Rex's grip on the keys tightens.

Steve to the ice cream man: Make it a double cone please.

I slam the boot shut, Rex now has the car keys and manages to lock the car.

Steve to the ice cream man: Hmmmm, just the one flake I think.

I realise that the raincover is still in the boot so try to wrestle the keys off Rex who starts hitting me in the head with them while wriggling out of my grip.

Steve to the ice cream man: You know what? I will have some strawberry sauce! Why not?!

I have managed to get the keys off the baby, open the boot, plonk a now crying Rex in there before I drop him while I grab the raincover and shove it under the pram.

Steve wanders casually over.

Steve: What is he doing in the boot? Wow, this is really good ice cream.

A snot sucker

Yes. I now own a snot sucker.

Have you seem them?

Look here

Yep. Until recently I didn't know they existed.

But then Rex got a cold. A bad cold. A cold that made it necessary for me to wipe his nose every two minutes. Which made him cry and whimper. Which made me get a headache.

Enter the snot sucker.

It is simple enough, you squeeze one air so that it creates a vacuum to suck and then release and zoom, snot in a plastic tub.

Just remember to clean it out before you de-snot the other nostril, or you will just shoot the already collected snot back up your baby's nose.... I would have thought...

Duh duh duh duh....

The other evening we were talking about the fact that some people ran the London Marathon for the Donkey Sanctuary. It was a controversial conversation but I won't go into that here.

I became confused.

Me: The thing is though, donkeys aren't real animals are they?

Everyone stops and looks.

Me, trying to save face: No I mean they aren't real real? You know?

My mum: What do you mean? What are they if not real?

Steve, under his breath: Don't say a unicorn, do not say unicorn....

Me: No like a hybrid. A cross between a horse and a....

Steve, louder now: Not a unicorn, not a unicorn!

Me: NO! Not a unicorn, duh! You know, the other horse animal....

I won

A few nights ago, Steve and I were watching some tv, an advert for a shooty type film appeared.

 

We watched the gratuitous violence, me filling with horror, Steve with pure joy and excitement (we are super compatible, can you tell?) The tag line is 'If no-one knows you, you don't exist'.

 

At this point I am confused.

 

Me: How can they say that no-one even knows you exist? I mean as long as someone is looking at you then they know you exist because they can see you.

 

Steve: (looking at me incredulously) What...?

 

Me: I mean the fact that someone is talking to them means that someone knows they exist. For that matter they must have had a mum.

 

Steve: They didn't mean it like that.

 

Me: Of course they did, why else would they say it. What else could it mean?

Steve: They mean like people who are secret agents and under the radar, on the lamb, walking shadows, outside society, above the....

Me: Stop spouting bizarre cliche phrases! Everyone is always known by someone! I mean, everyone goes to the shop to buy loo roll therefore the toilet roll seller person knows you exist! Do spies never wee? Or order a drink in a bar? Or get a hair cut? Who cuts a spy's hair? They never have straggly hair!

Steve: Eat your pasta!

 

You know you are hardcore when...

You singlehandedly manage to get a car seat, a changing bag, your shoes, two towels, two blankets, a giraffe shaped teether (named Joshua incidentally) and a bag of mango slices into a swimming pool locker with one hand while holding a wriggley baby who is in the teensiest stripey swimming trunks in the world. 

Also, when you're washing your face in the shower later that day, and you accidentally stick your little finger up your nostril and give yourself a nosebleed.

For it is yummy

Pizza that is.

After a long week and the funeral of my Grandad at the end of it, I was done. Rex is still an atrocious sleeper (why sleep when there are so many exciting things to see and do) so I was particularly knackered.

Steve offered the best antidote, well second best as wine is out, damn that child and his need for milk, and suggested takeaway pizza.

We rang the local chippy and specified our need for pizza and chip shop chips (not fries!).

Seriously, so so so very good. So good that I mmmmmmed and aaaaaaaaghed through mouthfuls.

Steve glanced over at my box.

Steve: That is the weirdest way of eating pizza ever.

Me: No, it is the best way. Gets the boring crusts done and saves all the yummy bits for the end.

Seriously, how was he brought up to eat pizza, next he will be telling me he doesn't peel his chicken nuggets....