Funny families

According to my potty training manual, baby boy has now been virtually accident free now (pants wise) for over a week and his reward chart is now smothered in stickers to the point where we have run out. So, with great fanfare, I announced to my son and the rest of the family that baby boy was now officially ‘dry’ and had graduated from potty training school. So his potty training manual is now up on the shelf along with other milestones in development and his vaccinations schedule. I also made sure every significant detail of his progress was mentioned in his baby book, particularly the day when he pooped in sister’s room. It is important to have these details recorded so that he can go through the ritual of embarrassment during his teenage years. My parents did it to me in the form of cine footage that captured the moment when my dress caught on the top of a kennel I was crawling into so that I could play with (more like terrorise) the puppies. For some reason my Mum didn’t put knickers on me then. Quite a few people have seen the first Moonie of my life, husbands, boyfriends, step-siblings. So, like a family ritual, I am doing the same to my children.

I figure if you have the ability to laugh at yourself from an early age, life and social life in particular, is a whole lot easier.

The trouble with my Dad was he never stopped having moments in compromising situations, well into his forties. He was like a combo of Delboy, George Best and Frank Spencer. I have seen my Dad hang outside my car when I was little and watch him attempt to climb through the window when my mum drove off in a strop, I have heard how he left his car on a ferry only for it to leave without him so he could just squeeze in a ‘swift one’ at the local pub and how he helplessly dangled half-naked from the toilet window, with his head half in the toilet bowl after attempting to get in through the fan light when he forgot his key and waiting over 2 hours upside down with his trouser buckle caught on the window opening for my mum to come home and release him.

With that kind of upbringing normality is anything but normal.

I am blogging every day for UNICEF – please Support the campaign.

Thanks for reading.

 

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