Last
weekend, my husband found a mouse in our washing machine. Before you ask me if it was dead or alive,
let me clarify - it was of the computer variety. Now that I’ve killed the suspense, let me
explain how the lifeless piece of electronics got inside our washer. It is once
again my naughty 18 month old. Smera’s latest fascination is depositing random
things into the washing machine and the waste bin.
Oh, there is another development that has kept me
busy over the last few weeks. My Gym routine that includes cardio to yoga and
zumba to pilates – I am thoroughly enjoying it all (not!). To add to the misery I was inducted to the new
lifestyle by a sadistic and torturous personal trainer. It’s no surprise then I
wait for my cheat (or ch-eat!) day – where you are allowed to eat (in
moderation) whatever you want.
In the excitement, to cheat I bought lovely
cupcakes only to find them resting in my dustbin. The culprit was none other
than Smera. It's great
that Smera is learning all about the use of dustbin at her playschool. Think
they should teach her next how she should not be throwing the cupcakes in the
dustbin on a cheat day.
But to
hear the story that takes the cake, we need to rewind a bit and go back to the
moment my husband discovered the mouse in the washing machine. Pulling the
mouse out to the washer, he asked me to guess what he found in there. I told
him what ever it is would not beat what I found in there the previous week.
He said 'Go on, what did you find?'
' A diaper', I answered.
'You mean, a used one?' He followed it up?
'Yeah' I quipped.
There was a pause and he retorted
'How used?'
I said ' You don't want to know'
He said 'Go on, what did you find?'
' A diaper', I answered.
'You mean, a used one?' He followed it up?
'Yeah' I quipped.
There was a pause and he retorted
'How used?'
I said ' You don't want to know'
There was a longer pause after that!
