It’s taken me some time, though it’s still not an established fact in entirety, that some things in our home do, in fact, belong only to me.
I’m now fairly certain of finding most of my stuff where I left it. Mostly. Some things, however, still get lifted and meddled with. My phone was a case in point. Up until I put a lock on it, I was never quite sure which new background pic would greet me on any given day. Ditto with my laptop. Having a lock on both now means that I no longer have pictures of someone’s big toe staring at me or a wean’s selfie with appended message, ‘Do you love me? Admit it, I’m your favourite child!’
There’s a lot to be said for communal living. Folk tampering with my toys is not one of them.
Except I have no one to blame but myself for this next part. On first taking possession of my I-pod a few years ago – a ‘free’ gift with a new phone – I had no clue how to work it. One of my daughters took me, and it, in hand and downloaded all of her songs from her media library onto the contraption and showed me how to press a few strategic buttons. She helped me add a bunch of my own. She doesn’t live here any more. So I’m stuck with her tunes and mine living together in some disharmony.
This one’s ok as the first, alphabetically, on my playlist. But it’s not one I would have downloaded myself. But, as Twindaddy’s asking, for question 19 of the 25 days of music challenge, what comes first, this is what you get. What’s mine, or not, is yours.
Anyone know how to delete without erasing the entire thing? No? Me neither.
I was wakened about twenty minutes ago by a cry in the dark. I jumped out of bed and rushed next door to the room my two youngest share. There’s Anna sitting bolt upright in bed crying while Louise drags her duvet back up on to her bed. Apparently, Louise had fallen out of her top bunk onto Anna. Impossible? No. They have an ‘L’ arranged bunk bed, designed and built by their dad to maximise space and so that they weren’t too high. I hate high sleepers.
Anyway, Anna was crying because Louise had landed on her. I went to comfort her and noticed she was wearing a pair of headphones! Upon removing them from her I then realised they were attached to a wire attached to the new Christmas I-Pod Touch, purchased so that she could play Minecraft with her sister. Guilt was written all over her face. And I couldn’t even give her a proper row. Not because of the hour but because I still can’t speak! Frustration. The most I could squeak was, ‘Ah’ll Minecraft ye!’ It was a loudish squeak.
I have my suspicions that both Louise and Anna may have been playing Minecraft together. Along with the cry in the dark I thought I heard Anna say, ‘You’ve took all my money!’ Tell me, does money ‘change hands’ in Minecraft?
I’m sick of hearing about this game. Anna now has her I-Pod confiscated until tomorrow and I might have to take it from her every night because I’ve heard a few whispers late at night coming from next door that I think may mean they’ve been having late night Minecraft sessions since Christmas. But three o’clock in the morning! And that’s me wide awake now. Bloody Minecraft addiction.
And now I’m kind of laughing because I remember being caught by my dad doing the same with my sister. Only it was a board game then. 😉
So, here’s a joke for you. I was sharing this in a comment with a fellow blogger. Thought you might like it too. Laughter. Good for the soul, you know. And, apparently, it can help you sleep……
A mother is concerned at the disparity between the personalities of her twin sons. One is an eternal optimist, the other a complete pessimist. She wants to find out why so trots them off to a child psychologist who speaks to both boys. At the end of the session, he tells the mum to bring them both back on their next birthday. He’s asked them both what they would like.
She returns with the boys on their birthday and the psychologist takes the pessimistic child into a room, a room full of every type of toy he had mentioned. The child’s response? ‘Not really what I asked for. That’s the wrong kind of bike. I wanted a BMX. I don’t like the colour of that computer. It all sucks.’
The second – optimistic – child is taken to a room where an enormous pile of shite lies steaming. The boy dives into and starts throwing it here, there and everywhere.
The psychologist is horrified and asks desperately, ‘What are you doing?!’
To which the child replies, ‘This amount of shite! There’s gotta be a pony in here somewhere.’
Ta da! Like? I love it. It kinda describes differences in my own offspring. x