Saturdays are freakishly heinous for us as a family. Due to Lalla’s long term commitment with diving (she is training at one of the pioneering talent spotting centres in the country and is quietly wanting to compete more), our wake up call for Saturday is 5am. Whilst this might not be that that early to many families but some of us don’t really get to bed until 1am. Thankfully, Lalla is quite good at getting her breakfast.
Breakfast today apparently was instant noodles. Yes, I am unashamed to admit this, my fellow home educating, granola crunching, houmous chomping chums.
On top of this, the two boys are at Music Centre from 9am til past lunchtime. What this means basically is that in order to get to the kitchen on Saturday mornings, one would need to successfully overcome the guitars and amps assault course.
This Saturday is a teeny weeny bit more stressful. Potato Bottom has a dance performance at the Minerva Theatre and I’m taking The Small Shouty One to watch her. That is if I can actually rouse her from her slumber. She declared that it wasn’t such a nice day anyway, she didn’t feel like getting up and by the way, she’s having a pyjama day.
And it didn’t help that our newly installed doorbell decided to go off continuously at 5:15am. Our doorbell is a novelty one and chants Om Namah Shivaya.
And whilst this is going on, Slaveboy is quietly stomping about because he has just discovered that the band he is meant to be working for today has failed to inform him that the gig was going to be a black tie corporate event. With champagne. And fun fair. Late finish. Band added on to the event just as an afterthought. Outdoor elevator music.
Slaveboy doesn’t do corporate events. Weddings. Or tribute acts.
This doesn’t bode well for the band who’s changed venue at the last minute, not given him details of curfew time and been sketchy about the number of guests attending.
Needless to say, Slaveboy is not in a good mood.
But he still said Yes when The Small Shouty One asked for a bit of his birthday chocolate.