Diva Tantrum of Tiredness and Irrational Reasoning.

To you remember being a kid and being so tired that you would just cry and cry and then your mum would say “Oh, you are just tired?”


And then you would wail and wail and insist “NO I AM NOT….” as you basically walk into walls and whimper in corners because it turns out you were so very tired you did not really know what to do with yourself?


This was my son Jack late yesterday afternoon.


He was doing me a drawing and a story and wrote LIKE as EKIL which sent him into a complete spin of hysterica. There was no talking him down off the ledge, so I ran him a big bath and threw a handful of Squinkies into the water.


Jack has been playing Squinkie Bath Masterchef all week. He can spend up to an our in there having cook offs, masterclasses and elimination challenges with the thumb nail sized bits of puzzling rubber.


It soothes him. Whatever works for you buddy.

example of squinkies

I went about making him some dinner. Harry was at a sleepover so it was a lone Jack who sat at the table with me, freshly scrubbed and tantrum forgotten.


Until I mentioned the rug.


Earlier on that afternoon, we went to one of those EVERYTHING MUST GO END OF LEASE 90% OFF CLOSING DOWN rug stores that never close down,  to get a rug for Harry’s Room. Our new place has floorboards in the kids room, and Harry’s room was fer-reeeeezing.


The kids were as well behaved in a rug shop on a rainy Saturday afternoon as you could expect, which was totally diabolical. I was as tense as a rubber band stretched out over a pile of persian rugs. We did a little niggling and a little haggling and left the shop with a rug, which Harry lorded over Jack. You see Jack wanted a new rug as well, but he already has one. A grotty old rug that, if closely inspected, would probably harbour 6 year old baby spew and dried weetbix in it’s pile.

The stinky rug in Jack’s Bedroom. Am clearly no stylist or interiors person.

As Jack sat and ate his dinner, we discussed the day and out of NO WHERE HE STARTS BAWLING AGAIN.


BECAUSE HE DID NOT GET A NEW RUG!


Now I would understand if it had been a bike. Or a new scooter or a new game for the idiot gaming machine BUT A RUG? REALLY?


Yes, really. A motherfucking floor covering was causing such angst.


But I don’t really blame him. It is a pretty cool rug. And it has the benefit of being odour free.




Ode to Ikea



Jacks face was drenched in tears. I gave up and pulled the biggest pile of bollocks out of my ass and told him that if he wanted, he could sleep in Harry’s room that night. This way, he could be the first to share that special time with the rug and Harry could never ever take that away from him.


I chose the easy way out as there was a bottle of vino in the fridge with my name on it and I intended to do some long pouring.


And that was how I survived the Diva Tantrum of Tiredness and Irrational Reasoning.

But in all seriousness, how about that rug!
AND less for cash….