Ho hum. I know, another post; I'm going to get myself a reputation if I'm not careful. The whispers will be starting; 'You know that Potty Mummy? She can't get enough of it. She's at it all the time! It's disgusting the number of hours she spends on it - doesn't she know, she'll give herself RSI if she doesn't watch out....'
But don't judge me, it's not my fault! You want to know the dirty secret, the reason I have been spending so much time in front of the computer recently? We have a new DVD player - and Husband has rediscovered his boxed set of 'Band of Brothers'.
Don't get me wrong. I liked 'Saving Private Ryan' as much as the next (female) person. Which is to say, not that much, actually. I mean, for a movie with so much tottie in it (I may have blogged before about my purely aesthetic admiration of Matt Damon), it's really quite... samey. I know, I know, it's very realistic, it shows you what really happened, it highlights the grittiness of War. Which is fine, I suppose, for a couple of hours. But watch a whole - interminable - series of it?
I think not. Blogging wins hands down. Frankly, tidying my sock drawer wins hands down - but luckily I don't have to make good on that comment, because instead I have a computer to play with, which is much more fun.
Especially when I have News from Deeyah Eeeyat. Today, I took Boy #2 to the supermarket. I took him to the Butcher. We made a family trip to the London Transport Museum in Covent Garden. And guess what? DRY. Sorry, did you hear that? DRY. I said, he was DRY!
I was so proud, I can almost disregard Tantrum Jacob as we left the museum. That would be the tantrum that stemmed from 'I can't believe you're making me leave this temple to the wonders that are London trains, buses, boats and taxis. This is punishment most cruel and unusual! You are both the worst parents in the history of the world, ever, EVER! I thought we had come here, to live for the rest of our lives, in peace and harmony amongst the engines!'
I mean, OK, he didn't actually say any of that. What he actually said was "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
All the way to the tube station. Until we reminded that his birthday presents were waiting at home for him, when he cheered up. And what were these presents? Unsurprisingly, trains, taxis, railways, and a Playmobil airplane.
Oh god - I can hear the opening credits of yet another episode of 'Banned of Brothers' (sorry, Freudian slip) playing in the sitting room.
Men. I just don't understand them.