While I was ill with the first phase of this bug, which has sinced become bronchitis, Son No. 2 came to visit me with his girlfriend, the lovely B. It was a visit which had been arranged for a while, but since OH and I were both suffering, we let them know so they had a chance to duck out if they didn’t want to risk catching it. They came anyway, bless them, and they cooked dinner for us, too!Â I have such nice kids.
That picture up there? That was my first sight of him. He knocked on the door like that, wearing a genuine (borrowed) HazMat mask, which I thought made a rather good Face of the Week – but you’ll be glad to know that he did take it of before he cooked the toad in the hole. He said he couldn’t breathe and he’d rather risk the bugs.
Anyway, while they were here, I was looking through a most wonderful collection of beads they’d brought, sent to me by a lovely lady from the Blogosphere, and it went something like this:
Me (picking up a box of bright orange plastic beads): Oooh, look at these ones!
Son No. 2: They remind me of the sixties!
OH: I’m always surprised at the things you know.
Son No. 2: (in tones of wounded pride): Really?
OH: Yes, I mean … like music, or people, or stuff from my youth. The sixties were before you were even born!
Son. No. 2: Well.. I like history. I pick things up …
Me: We taught you a lot of it.
Son No. 2: You did?
Me: Yes. I used to tell you about it all while you were going to sleep.
Son. No. 2: What? Like … ‘The sixties were round, and orange. Remember it!‘?
And he wonders why we keep telling him he should go into stand-up comedy.
Give in, Son No. 2 – Resistance is futile!
And also, Billy Connolly is rich!