How is it going? I'm typing this while smelling a bit of sick. Not my sick, Sam's sick. I took the kids to an indoor play area after picking Eva up from school today and gave them both an apple in the car as a snack. That's an apple each of course, I couldn't ask them to share the same apple in the car any more than you could ask Ronald McDonald and Colonel Saunders to share a Burger King Quarter Pound Double Cheeseburger, at a Pizza Hut.
Anyway Sam has a tendency to get over excited after running around a lot and puke up and that's what he did on one of the indoor play area's bouncy castle/Krypton Factor assault course combos that seem popular these days. Of course normally I'd clean the puke up with one of the wet wipes from his change bag but for some reason Juliette transferred the contents of old unisex change bag into one of her old handbags. As a result I tend to leave the thing in the car as not even I have such a low level of self awareness that walking around carrying a handbag is something I'm comfortable with. So instead of being able to use a wet wipe I downed the last of my latte (one sugar please), popped open the lid on the cup, scooped up the apple chunks into the paper cup, threw it in the bin, wiped up the remaining mess clean with my sleeve and then rolled both my sleeves up. Tadaa! Juliette asked me why I didn't just ask management for a cloth but where's anecdote in that? Anyway I've still got my sleeves rolled up and I still smell of puke. It's appley with a faint hint of vomit.
I thought Sam might be extra tired tonight too what with all that running around but it took ages for Juliette to get him to sleep. I gave him no more that forty minutes for his day time nap as well so he was nice and knackered. When I woke him up at midday I tried to get him to stay awake by taking him to check the post (always a favourite). I popped him on my shoulders and he slumped over my head and fell asleep because he was still too tired. I thought I must have looked like a sidecurled Orthodox Jew but instead of ringlets hanging down over my ears I had toddler arms.
They've both woken up with nightmares lately so maybe it's something they've watched? Peppa Pig doesn't pull her punches when she's tackling those hard to stomach nitty gritty subjects I can tell you. "Mr Dinosaur is Lost", "Daddy Loses his Glasses", "Windy Autumn Day", "Traffic Jam", "George Catches a Cold", it's got more edgy story lines than Eastenders sometimes. Come to think of it maybe it was that time we watched Jaws.
This week I'm nearly close to finishing the modifications to my medieval gambeson. If you don't know what that is it's a padded jacket used as basic under protection for chainmail. I bought one ages ago and had to go for the XL size due to the room I need around my shoulders to draw my longbow. As a result the rest of the gambeson (i.e. the sleeves) were in proportion to the XL size which meant the sleeves were so long you couldn't see my hands and when I raised my arms up it lifted the shoulders up too and my head disappeared. Brilliant.
I took the sleeves off, tailored them to the correct size, put in spiral lace ups under the arms so that I can put my arms in and tighten them up and put lacing points inside the main garment so that I can remove the sleeves if need be in hot weather. Thing is it's all padded and quilted and has a gazillion bits that needed sewing but I can't run it through a sewing machine because it's too thick. So it's been painfully stitched by hand. Juliette's been looking at me doing this work and has casually wondered where that peg bag I promised to make her is. Her lips said "Where's my f*cking peg bag?" while her eyes said "Read my f*cking lips". That's an old joke, she didn't swear at me at all, it was just implied.
To be fair now it's been over a year that I promised to make her the peg bag and I actually did. However I ripped it adding some fancy stuff like a shoulder strap and a gizmo for keeping the bag open while taking pegs in and out and I couldn't be bothered to repair it. It's in the garage under a pile of rat sh*t. Still Christmas is coming up, so, peg bag ahoy ... It's the thought that counts I always believe.
Anyway, take care of yourself, I haven't included any mickey taking about being bald this letter for change as I thought you could do with a break.
P.S. You can of course borrow Sam any time he's feeling sleepy.