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Oh school holidays, how I love thee. I love not having to spring out of bed and shout/wrangle The Feral Threesome into school uniforms and shove breakfast down their whining throats. No FFS!? I love not having to slap on some 'war paint' and do my hair at the arse crack of dawn. No FFS!? I love not having to whip up three unique lunch boxes of nutritional food that will be compared to the contents of other kids' lunchboxes and duly judged and possibly shunned. No FFS!? I am not a morning person. Not remotely. Thanks to school holidaysWell she spat on me
He called me a poops
But she looked at me
She won't share the crayon
He ate the crayon
She called me a mingo
That's because she said I smelled like sand
She licked me
She licked me too
He licked us I mean, seriously....FFS!?
In my opinion, they are all poops by 9:30am most days during school holidays. FFS!? In our house, school holidays means war. Sibling smack down style. It's times like these that I most fondly think back to our Bali trips and our beloved Nanny, and I wonder what price for citizenship sponsorship and renovating the house to add an extra bedroom and bathroom. FFS!?
And what kind of idiot enacts a serious 'no alcohol during the week' policy....on school holidays? I am some kind of