The grandparents are coming, the grandparents are coming


It’s fair to say the dual blow of my wife’s parents going to America for a month and my son’s nursery shutting down for its summer holiday has hit my wife and I pretty hard. And when I say pretty hard, I’m talking with more force than a sledgehammer wielded by the world’s strongest man while he is hanging out the door of a bullet train that’s travelling at top speed.

Yup, when you add the above to fact we’re both trying to earn a living and divide it by my son’s steadfast refusal to sleep through the night, August has been a hell of a month for the Hood clan. Tomorrow, however, everything changes. Why? Because tomorrow my mother and stepfather are choo-chooing down from Scotland to make shuttle runs to the park, spend hour after hour pointing at buses and generally do whatever they can to remove a little bit of the weight from our shoulders. It is going to be amazing. A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. I know it and my wife does too.

“Your parents can’t get here quickly enough,” she said the other day, possibly just after reprimanding our son for attempting to dig his teeth into her thigh or pull her trousers down.

Going off on a slight tangent for a second, do all kids do the tugging trousers down thing? I ask, because my son is all over it at present. And while this does have the odd hilarious consequence (see: him yanking my pyjamas to the ground while I was signing for a package from the postman), it’s getting a bit annoying. Thus I need to look into ways to stop it. For example, giving belts to everyone who crosses the threshold.

Talking of people crossing the threshold, my mum and stepdad arrive in 14 hours, so I need to stop yapping and start preparing the house for their arrival. So I’ll leave this post by saying: peace out and remember, no matter what you kid throws at you, don’t panic, because the grandparents arrive tomorrow. Unless they don’t, of course. In that case feel free to ignore this entire article and panic.




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