For those of you who watch British tv, I imagined saying that with a Geordie accent as in 'Big Brother'. Sad, huh? And just as sad, it's virtually impossible to write phonetically as far as I know -though perhaps the comments box will tell me otherwise?
Still housebound. After a fun-filled day yesterday of chasing poo and wee, with a grand total of 6 pairs of pants making it into the wash (but only 4 pairs of trousers - after Incident 4 I gave up on those and decided that if Boy #2 wants to behave like trailer-trash, he can look like it too...), today we have had Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
That is not, however, because my son has suddenly seen the light and is merrily using the potty at every opportunity. Oh no. It is actually because he took full advantage of being nappied-up for our trip to church this morning. (I may be facing this potty training malarky head-on, but I am not stoopid, and didn't fancy pulling out a mop and bucket to deal with an unscheduled 'disasters' in the pews.) No doubt he is 'filling his boots' (please pardon the expression) again as I type in the nappy he's wearing for his sleep.
So it's official. I'm not stupid - but neither is he.
Now there's a thought to comfort myself with as I mop the mess up later...