Boy #1 has decided on his future career plan; we are all going to live on a farm.
Husband is going to be a farmer.
I am going to be the farmer's wife and 'do all the work' (same old, same old, then).
Boy #2 is going to be the farm cat (this is a thinly veiled insult, by the way. And Boy #2 knows it. In retaliation he refused to share his Brio Mallard locomotive and all hell broke out on the Island of Sodor just before dinner this evening).
He is going to be the farm dog.
This is all well and good in the parallel universe Boy #1 often inhabits, but I do have just a couple of questions...
First off; why do I get to do all the work? Is Husband just going to sit around reading Farmers' Weekly, doing the crossword, and putting his big feet on the (imaginery) Aga to battle the (imaginery) draughts whistling across our (imaginery) stone flooring in our (imaginery) charmingly beaten up old farmhouse? What about emancipation for women, women's rights, and time off for good behaviour? Why am I getting so het up about this when there is as much chance of my ever living on a farm as there is of Boy #1 actually metamorphosing into a dog, for chrissake?
Secondly, if, as he stated loudly this afternoon in the park when confronted by a medium-sized and not very threatening greyhound, he is 'allergic to dog fur' (that's news to me, by the way), won't that throw just a tiny spanner in the works?
Obviously I would never say that to him. He's 5; last week he wanted to be a PowerRanger (which frankly is a much more dangerous ambition, and I'm just grateful that, if that plan has gone by the wayside, I won't have to put up with his rushing off to San Angeles to destroy baddies and keep using my best tea towels to polish up the Megazord). And why destroy his dreams, since as far as I'm aware boys don't normally actually grow up into dogs. They behave like them, yes (and oh, how excited am I about being the lone female in this family once puberty hits?) but that's as far as it usually goes....
Ah well, I suppose I should just enjoy his active imagination. Can't think where he gets that from.
Anyway. Best go. I've a feed order to place, the horses need mucking out, it's nearly time for The Archers, and the sheep are lambing. Which reminds me; I've got make sure the warming oven on the Aga is the right temperature for the orphaned lamb I'm about to help a prolapsed ewe deliver in the bitterly cold barn out the back. I think I shall call her Buttercup.
Saturday night blogging. Don't you just love it?
My 5 year old thinks that only men work, yours wants you to do all the work (on his imaginary farm), so if the two of them could meet in the middle somewhere! Mine wants to be a princess when she grows up - I see shattered dreams ahead!
ReplyDeleteThe farmhouse sounds lovely - apart from all the work, and those subsidies won't last forever, you know.
ReplyDeleteFor the most part, R tells me about all the babies she's going to have when she grows up. I really hope she waits a while!
At least you know which animal your 5 year old is, or will be. Mine changes every day AND I'm expected to keep up with him. I do believe tomorrow is duck billed platypus day which will be very interesting.
ReplyDeleteMy son told me he was going to live in Alaska and have a little boy of his own. Well, he did make it to Alaska, but never had that little boy of his own. I guess he didn't figure on the fact that he needed a wife to go with it.
ReplyDeleteMy younger son announced at the age of 3 that he was going to be a baker in the mornings and a builder in the afternoons and at the weekend he was going to be 'a arkeroligist' (preschool Archeology anyone?). All busy and active hands on stuff yes? Actually he's a typesetter/layout/graphics designer with the local rag and spends his working life in front of a computer! So, PM please don't get your hopes up about Buttercup and the bucolic way of life as I rather think you'll end up disappointed. I know, you were really looking forward to it, out in the cold and wet wrestling with mucky livestock or in the kitchen slaving over a truculent Aga whilst simultaneously scrubbing the flagstones but sometimes you have to sacrifice your dreams..... well, hopefully anyway!!
ReplyDeleteHe should read 'Farmer Duck' where the animals revolt when the Farmer sits in bed eating chocolates. A valuable lesson, I feel! :)
ReplyDeletePM, next time I see Boy No. 1 (where did you say that hash sign is on a Mac? For God's sake), I shall whisper in his ear and ask if he has considered the possibility of combining dog and Titanium Ranger. A loud and barking Power Ranger will require frequent walking AND ad hoc sword fights.
ReplyDeleteDon't you just love sisters?
Jonathan isn't yet at the age of deciding a career, of course, but it will be interesting to see what he chooses, considering right now he is interested in cowboys and astronauts and trains...hmmmm... could be interesting!
ReplyDeleteRosie, of course, she could always be princess of our hearts (!)
ReplyDeleteTasha, I know it, those subsidies get less every year. You just have to listen to what's happening in Ambridge to find that out (which, btw, I don't. My mum keeps me up to date...)
EPM, so is he going to be nocturnal and very shy?
Irene, men, really. What are they like, eh?
Sharon, you know I like aga's. But I couldn't eat a whole one (boom boom!)
WM, well if that's what being a farmer is all about, maybe I'll reconsider.
FK, and in return I will suggest to the Little Prince that perhaps mascara might suit him. And don't you just know he'll go for it?
J's Mommy, just wait until he graduates to ant-stepping. (ooops, sorry, that was Footballer's Knees childhood ambition...)
I have been trying to think of similarly witty comments but brain is too fryed. Brilliant post. Lucky you being a farmers wife is all I can say. I am usually Jabba the Hutt. Even the cat gets to be Princess Leia but not me. Mind you, I do get to slouch around, drool and burp a lot so I guess it is the perfect role right now. Mind you, not so much fun when they are trying to strangle the life out of me with my dressing gown belt...life with boys...sigh.
ReplyDeleteMine wants to be an Indiana Jones/Bobba Fett/Construction Worker/Baker. He will be one busy boy. Who continues to live at home with his mommy.
ReplyDeleteAt least I'll know what he is up to.
Happy to come and help you on the (imaginary) farm.
ReplyDeleteCan I bring my (imaginary) horse?
From the quantities of mud and hair - enough to build a small dog - I already live on a farm, albeit an urban venture, and as regards the future intentions of my young, Boychild is going to become a geeky megalomaniac, think a good looking, non altruistic Bill Gates, and The Girl is at this very moment lolling in her room waiting for the world to come and offer her a living, preferably involving no actual work but quite a lot of frippery.............................................. and it's allllllmyyyyyy fault - pause whilst I beat myself as a baaaaddd mother (It's true, I am, avoidance rather than conflict, confrontation rather than mediation - bollocks, no hope really)
ReplyDeleteMy husband is always recounting the school essay he wrote at prep school saying he wanted to be a giraffe when he grew up. Apparently it was most frowned upon!
ReplyDeleteMind you, Littleboy 2 spends his whole time being a tiger at the moment. This includes going up behind people in the street and roaring loudly.
I think I can see you in that role...
ReplyDeleteHi Nicola, well, at least (before his grisly end) Jabba did get to lay around rather a lot...
ReplyDeletePed, that sounds good NOW... maybe you should check in with my mum about the benefits of having a son at home - my brother was there until he was around 29 (I love my brother but please, no!)
Mud, only if it's a palomino. It is? What an (imaginery) coincidence?
ReplyDeleteTR, somehow I doubt you're anywhere near as bad as you make out. And if you are, well, just blame YOUR parents. They are usually the ones responsible for the style of parenting we use ourselves, after all!
NVG, tigers, lions, dogs. It's like living in a zoo sometimes, isn't it? Don't forget to get him a pet passport before you head over the pond though...
Iota, thanks, so much. No, really... (You know that offer of G&B hot chocolate? It may be delayed...)
PM! You'll be very impressed with me! I actually babysat a 4 month old little girl for 8 hours! And I managed all on my own! Impressive huh? Especially since I haven't changed a diaper in 40 years when I was babysitting for 15 cents an hour.
ReplyDeleteI love the imagination of your little ones. It just must crack you up sometimes!
Aims, I am totally impressed! And may I ask, was the nappy changing as revolting as you expected it to be? (Don't try to fool me; even I dread changing other people's kids nappies. And as for it's being a girl! I wouldn't know where to start...)
ReplyDelete