These are the Days of Their Lives

I have just spent the last few hours stinkingly hungover in a packed cinema full of popcorn-chewing children; by personal choice.

I lust after the old hangover days.  Shelley and I spending the entire day horizontal in our pyjamas in our flat, inventing straws that would mean that we didn't even have to lift our head to drink our pints of squash but instead would be able to remain completely motionless at all times.

Things are different these days, obvs.  Although having said that, since we've convinced Sebi in the last month that it is actually possible for him to leave his bed without either of us arriving in his room to cajole him out of it, life it definitely better of a weekend morning, particularly for Poor Stu.  I was vaguely aware of one of them arriving in our room this morning at some point to suggest that it might be time for one of their parents to arise and give them breakfast.  I put my left foot underneath Stuart's bottom in a convincing manner until I was aware that the bottom had vanished and I could take hostage of the entire Super-Kingsize Bed, (rather that just the 80% I was holding up until that point).

Long gone are the days of actually having to engage with a child pre 9.30am.  Hallelujah! I reckon Zak may be able to take charge of breakfast soon too, although my dear husband isn't a slave to sleep in the same way that I am.

Apparently I was drunk last night.  I KNOW!  Can you believe it?  Of course you can.  The interesting fact that was raised by my husband this evening was that I was actually visibly drunker than him for most of the evening.  This is relatively unusual and worthy of a mention in his book as he was therefore able to pull me on my behaviour today which he enjoyed greatly.  I did nothing of note.  No bodily parts were out, abusive emails were sent or homeless people or animals adopted.  All good.  We were out with comparatively 'new' friends however, and Stuart said I was in my prime of showing off to a new audience. Every other word was disgusting and I trotted out my three most hilarious stories at top volume, pausing with the utmost certainty at the points for appreciative laughter.  Sad cow.  Sad, yet totally fucking hilarious, cow.

Anyway, 'The Lego Movie' was exactly what was needed this afternoon.  I didn't have to think/interact/concentrate or parent for two hours.  Then stuffed my fat face with pizza immediately after in Prezzo.  Happy days.  I just love half-term.  Particularly I love it from tomorrow when the chiddlers are racing up the motorway to spend most of it in Redditch whilst Stu and I drink champagne and eat out every night.  Smug?  Rather.