The next door neighbour has just bought a big ass plasma screen, stuck it on the wall and hasn’t closed his curtains since.
I think the plasma fitting instructions tell you to use appropriate wall fixings that can handle the weight and to leave the curtains open for the first few months so everybody can see that you’ve got one.
To cash in, I made Brodie a rope swing. When he reached the apex of the swing he could see what they were watching.
We watched parts of Harry Hill yesterday and a sizeable chunk of Eggheads today.
I don’t know about you but after a hard week at work I like to unwind by seeing how many nappies I can balance on my son’s head.
Last night I managed to stack a jaw-dropping 16 nappies on the boy’s head.
I’m sure in years to come he will look back at this achievement with much pride and thank me for helping him break a record he didn’t even know he wanted to break.
I don’t know about you, but after I’ve relaxed by balancing nappies on my son’s head, I like to march him down to the local supermarket, so that he can accomplish my dream of seeing him sat upon a throne of multi-pack kitchen rolls. The look of joy on my little lad’s face will stay with me forever.
Make up your own games.
Quality time with the kids is important. I like to turn off the TV and invent new parlour games. This is one of Brodie’s favourites. It’s called, BOX BALLOONS!!
It’s pretty straight forward, I put Brodie in a big box and put him in a room where there are some balloons.
You cannot see his little face, because it’s in a big box, but I can assure you he is enjoying every minute of the two hours he has to be in there.
Gracie is sat at the table behind him, and even though she is far away, you can just about make out the look of joy spreading across her face, as it suddenly dawns on her that when she gets older she will too have to play, BOX BALLOONS.
Some parents force their kids to become cooler versions of themselves when they were young, which has resulted in a generation of tiny body poppers; popping, locking and whirling about all over the place. I don’t agree with this. In my view, it is much kinder on your kids to force them to look like Brat Pack characters. I force mine to look like James Spader.
Upon my command: “Look like James Spader now!” My son has to rush around, find his Rayban Wayfarers and adopt a confident pose.
He then has to be dismissive towards a college geek who will then ironically beat him in a love dual for the hand of the college sweetheart.
Obviously, I don’t do this with my young daughter. I force her to look like Baby Bjorn Borg.