Happy Clapper on Uppers.

Online communities continue to surprise me. In a good way.

For example, I had no idea how many people would want to win an LG Kompresser Steam Vacuum. No idea at all.

And I was dumbfounded at the response to the post I wrote yesterday about Performing Princesses. DUMB. FOUNDED. I wrote that post in 9 minutes with a toothbrush hanging out of the side of my mouth with Sponge Bob Square Pants on in the telly drowning out the noise of a couple of Woogettes fighting, Ninja Style. The post kicked off a few other posts including one from the Dynamic Danimezza and the Sublime Sunny Side Up. And others. But I cannot find the links.

For me, nothing with replace my real life community. I have an extraordinary family and the greatest circle of real life friends you could ever hope for. And of course the long suffering Mr Woog who is again hosting a gaggle of Bloggers this weekend at Chateau De Woog. He asked this morning how many bottles of wine we might need. He is a good egg.

Reading this you might think that I have turned into a happy clapper or have overdosed on uppers. I am having a moment of complete happiness. Let’s run with it hey?

This morning when I dropped Harry and Jack off to school, Jack had forgotten his hat. And he was pissed off about it. I said “You have one hanging on your hook, just go to your classroom and get it.”

He got out of the car, glared at me, and in the manner of a mini diva declared “You need to stop ruining my life!” It took at my control not to say to him…

“Look champ. 86 out of 87 commenters on my blog post about you yesterday think I am a kick ass mum. And you cannot argue with those numbers!”

But I simply smiled, thought about the irony of that comment and wished him a good day. I drove away and watched him standing there with his hands on his hips and went and got myself a coffee. I do not do suffer guilt trips from 5 year olds. I save them for grown ups.

So thank you for reading this blog. And for sharing your thoughts. This week it was pointed out to me that I write too much about bodily functions and vodka. I probably do. But I do not care. Because we all fart, burp and cry. But it is how you write about it that counts.