(Oh come on, muppets can do Humpty Dumpty newsreports, I can’t investigate murky pools of paint-water in the living room?)
Rockstars get breakfast in bed for good behavior
The Other Day:-
<weird CSI sound at beginning of episode>
“Mum. Look.”
From a late breakfast and vegging on the sofa in front of CNBC, I peer over the armrest and bookshelf.
Crime Scene: The Rockstar is sitting in a pool of muddy green water on a plastic sheet over the living room floor, medicine syringe in hand, a half doz mostly empty white bowls in front of him.
Medicine Syringe: After I came clean about putting medicine in his milk, Rockstar has been measuring out his own medicine (2.5ml Cosyr, 2ml Polaramine etc) as well as getting his own milk when he’s sick; except we’ve been fortunate enough not to need medicine recently* and he said he missed syringing something.
*Have been telling him that touching his face as little as possible with his hands when he’s in school during flu season will cut the chances of him getting sick and having to miss school… So he scratches his nose with the back of his hand or sleeve, something my mum in law complained about because she thinks it looks a bad habit but well it’s cutting down the likelihood of colds during flu alerts (and I would seriously be less freaked about flus here if you didn’t keep hearing about people dying from them).
Also drummed into him that medicines are for particular illnesses, and there are dosage labels he’s learning to read. At any rate self-medicating is forbidden and we keep the medicine high out of reach, but on the offchance we ever visit friends or relatives who don’t keep meds out of reach, I explain about medicine and such whenever I can.
White Bowls: They were filled with different colored water, Rockstar was mixing colors (dissolved a few drops of Rockstar’s paints in them, thought the white would make colors stand out more).
Plastic Sheet: Just something from an old game he pulled out of a drawer to jump on.
How It Happened: No Bloody Idea. Most of the water from all the bowls, not just one, was in his lap. Guess he syringed everything into the bowl in his lap. Then kept going even after it was full. And spilled it.
“Are you angry?”
“Uh, I won’t be if you make it easy for me to change you out of those clothes. Obviously you can’t wear those wet clothes to school now.”
Rockstar nods solemnly.
I glance at the crime scene – there’s not much water left in the bowl, he’s probably not going to be at it much longer. “You may as well carry on playing in that mess before I change you, when you’re done let me know.”
15 minutes later:
“Mum. I’m done.”
So I come over and –
Bloody hell. I didn’t say a word to him about cleaning up, I was just thinking to stay calm and get him into a fresh uniform without a fight (he hates being rushed and bossed) so I bit down on my reflex to freak at him about the mess.
School run was in a half hour from when I first arrived on the crime scene to find my school uniformed son sitting in a pool of paint water. But 10 minutes before time he’s stacked all the empty bowls and mopped the mess up with the old towel I set aside to clean it with.
“I cleaned up,” Rockstar looks pleased with himself but like it’s no big deal. His mother however, is flabbergasted.
“Uh, thank you. Ready to change now?” Still can’t believe it. Maybe aliens parked on the balcony and abducted my flesh and blood while I was in the next room getting the towel. But then the dog would have said something. Maybe they took her too. And then they performed their Weird Alien Experiments on behavior modification, returning child and dog in the blink of an eye. Alien Technology could also have mastered time travel.
Who can tell, it’s Alien Technology.
Maybe I was the experiment.
Aliens are watching me.
“You’re welcome.” Was it really my son that just said that?
As I get fresh clothes on – even his underwear is soaked through – I search his head for any traces of brain surgery. Strange marks at the base of his skull. Alien gadgets attached behind his ears.
Nothing. Just the bumps he’s had from birth (giant headed baby, pelvic bone in the way, you do the math). Maybe they put the gadgets up through his nose.
Amazing.
We were not late for school that day.
