Scrap metal

This week, LB shifted his attention to scrap metal. A break from Irish lorries but with worse sound effects on youtube. He also came back from his dad’s with a toolkit containing a hammer and screwdriver.

Last night, there was a terrible crashing noise upstairs. He’d put his die cast models (some limited edition) in a pile and was hammering the screwdriver into them.

Whoa! Stoppit LB! What are you doing?????”
“Making scrap metal Mum.”
“Well you gotta stoppit matey. Now!”
“Why Mum?”
“Because I said so! You’ll ruin them!”

“Blimey,” I said to Rich, sitting back downstairs, “Model enthusiasts would be weeping if they saw that…”

Then I started wondering why he should stop bashing them.

The bath

“Mum.”
“Yes?”
“Mum.’
‘Yes?’
‘Mum.’
‘What? I can’t hear you – I’m in the bath.”
“MUM.”
WHATDOYOUWANT?
“MUM ARE MY BUSES* IFWEPOIHPAIEHPAW MUM?”
“WHAT? I CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE SAYING.”
“MUM ARE MY BUSES IFWEPOIHPAIEHPAW MUM?”
“LB I CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE SAYING. SPEAK CLEARLY.”
“MUM ARE MY BUSES ROADWORTHY?”
“YES LB.”
“THANK YOU MUM.”

* LB has chosen two Canterbury Park and Ride die cast buses with his birthday money. For the geeky among you (or for those with little dudes who love buses), here’s the link.

“Just you and me, Mum”

(… and the Olympia Horse of the Year Show programme)

Every year on his birthday, Laughing boy chooses a treat. ┬áThis could be a day out, a meal or whatever he wants really. It’s become a bit of a family joke that he only ever wants me to go on this treat. ┬áNo amount of bribery, coaxing or cajoling shakes his conviction that it’s “Just you and me, Mum”.

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