Hell hath no fury.....

....like a toddler denied the opportunity to eat his father's fungicidal foot cream for lunch ('my smoothie! my smoothie!' - since when did a tube of Daktacort look like a smoothie?).

Or, for that matter, raw eggs which he has removed from the fridge and 'explored' by crushing them in his hands (I thought eggs under an equal pressure were like the strongest things known to man and you could stand on a box of them without breaking them? Clearly his grip is more vice-like than even I imagined).

Or denied the opportunity to wash his hands for 619th time in one morning long, long after the last remnants of the eggs had been washed away ('my hands! my hands! MY HANDS!').

Or prevented from grinding my MAC make-up brush into the walls whilst shrieking 'PAINT! 'PAINT!'.

Or removed from the top of the toilet where he is busy grappling with the cistern shrieking 'LIFT! LIFT!' (we have all become way too familiar with the inside workings of that toilet recently, and no, it still isn't fixed).

Or guided away from the cable that goes into the wall which he is really very sure needs to be removed from the wall using nothing but brute force.

Or stopped from swigging on a bottle of olive oil which he is SURE must actually be juice. 'JUICE! JUICE! WAAAAAAAAA'.

I had forgotten about this bit. The bit between being a baby and becoming a semi-rational-being (you know - the kind of human being that doesn't feel the need to cry for 20 minutes and beat their own head against a cupboard door because the top fell off their custard cream).

In 2 short(ish) years I had really truly erased it all from my memory.

The power of nostalgia (or maybe it's the Strongbow?).

I think I need to get out more. Whether I take the toddler with me is another question......

Anyway, I've got a man coming tomorrow to investigate my mysterious holes (boom boom) so I will be stuck in all day and I will need the power of your collective good will to ensure that:

a) he finds no evidence of infestation or dampness in my holes (no comments - please - people in my family read this blog).

and

b) things don't go the same way they did on the fateful day that Virgin sent an engineer round. If you missed that one, it's here: An Afternoon I would rather forget

There are some memories that even nostalgia/Strongbow can't fade.......

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