I find my children (16-year-old boy/girl twins) really annoying in the morning.
For example, today
7:14 deep comfy sleep in which I am dreaming of achieving a 300% speed boost on a vintage Pentium computer
7:15 sleep shattered by a town-crier standing outside my bedroom and delivering a double whammy of the style so beloved of this family. In this case, 1. time to get up mum 2. oh hey my phone is still not working.
I throw a dressing gown on and stumble downstairs to face the challenge of a new day.
Specific challenges this morning include:
- staring at John's phone and wildly promising to remove rain from the inside so that it will work
- removing entitled texting girl from my special chair in the kitchen
- filling in a long explanatory note in the one-inch square area provided in a Highdown planner
- listening to a complicated description of the struggles to find a suitable venue for the Highdown prom
- receiving a briefing on the ways in which I have recently failed in my parental duties
- getting the milk out the fridge and finding that it now contains 0.5ml of milk
- listening to explanation of why milk carton is to all intents and purposes empty. Explanation delivered with the skill of a professional lawyer and I am somehow forced to admit guilt.
- Answering enquiries as to the location of various items, although I don't even know what some of these things are.
This section of the morning ends with a double hellish crash of the front door. But I still have the dog-staring to get through. This is when the dogs stand stock still and fix me with deep tragic unblinking stares. Ted the collie has always done this, it's a collie thing. Remarkably he has taught Pablo, the terrier-style thing, to do it too. In the end I break down weeping and give them some food.
8:30. Downstairs for another's days computer fixing.
This moan goes out to all the parents and dog-owners who are attempting to perform some kind of job or life independent of their hangers-on.
One day, we'll get our revenge.