Well folks, it’s been a while. Been a little snowed under but never mind, Auntie Esther is back to entertain you with more goings on and pondering and laughter.
You may well ask what will she write about today. - Boys and the Eating Thing
My youngest son is 12 years old. A rather large 12 year old, I might add. How large you may well wonder? Large enough to be mistaken for a 16 year old. With attitude? you ask. Hmmmm….yes, sometimes. But he knows which side his bread is buttered on and taking that attitude out on the street or even trying it on inside my house will mean he will have to sleep with one eye open and a clove of garlic for protection under his pillow. How many of you have seen Psycho? Well you watch me and him, if he ever gets totally out of hand, I may just have to go there with my 5ft 3 self. Anyway I digress.
So my son is large enough to be wearing a size 11 shoe and towering over me all 5ft 7in of him. He loves to put his arm on my shoulder, looking down on me, when he is in jest mode. His other mode which often takes precedence is his PMT mode. He used to go there quite a lot with the PMT thing, until I had to tell him, that my house was not big enough for the two of us with PMT, so he had to quit his bull…….. and behave himself or else.
Anyways…..His voice is also on the verge of breaking and sometimes, when sleep eludes me I have to really go there and ponder what sort of beast he may evolve into. The foot thing is really bothering me, because they remind me of footage shown about The Abominable Snowman, The Yeti whose massive footprints were always shown in the snow. My son in drag? Hmmmmmmm. Anyway, come on now peeps, the child, can put away two plates of food before you can say “say grace please.” So yes, I am growing concerned. Especially where the foot is concerned, seriously it isn’t funny buying shoes for him. It’s like looking at boats.
Sometimes I have to watch him carefully as he chomps away at his food, as if famine- a-coming, reminding him that he needs to keep his fingers in-touch with the rest of his hand, or else they might end up in his digestive system. Yes, he is a hearty eater.
In fact, I have had to learn certain strategies once I have completed my shopping to ensure that what I’ve purchased lasts for more than two days. Because I don’t tend to be laughing after day two elapses into sundown and my cupboards are like Old Mother Hubbard’s…Bare, Bare, Bare. You might think me a bit of a witchdoctor, but sometimes, I seriously want to add some Senakot in the tub of hot chocolate or Milk of Magnesia in the milk. If I could get away with sprinkling Senakot on his cereal I would, because this is the only deterrent I know that would keep him out of the kitchen for long periods of time.
Also, I don’t get this part of the whole eating scenario. I just don’t understand how every three hours, my youngest especially, is not just hungry but he is STARVING. After shovelling two plates of food down and almost a bottle of Robinson’s black currant drink, my man’s eyes are still beady and looking around MY kitchen cupboards for a SNACK. I’ve had to dash his carcass out of my kitchen many a time, with some serious threats, chasing his tail.
I remember back in the day, after the table was cleared that was IT. I couldn’t be telling my parents that I was still hungry when I had just eaten dinner and if I had refused anything at the time, then being hungry was my fault and the only thing I had to look forward to before bedtime was a cup of Horlicks or Ovaltine, with maybe a Rich Tea biscuit. Forget sneaking down the stairs to put on toast and have a fry up. Papa had a nose like a Police dog, star, and even before the bread went “Pop” in the toaster, he would be down the stairs, in the kitchen and right up in my face with toast in hand, in bin before I could scream “me sorry daddeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”.
So I am pondering how to keep my child bulked up without getting myself into debt. My options are therefore;
· Buy food on the black market – Liddle’s, Netto’s
· Re-mortgage everything but my soul – Visit Soho once a week
· Send him out to work
· Revert back to the Tesco’s White Brand Stuff
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm – difficult decision peeps. Anyways, I’m off to grab a cup of horlicks….buoy it done already….I’ll stick with water
