The Egg-Man Cometh

Our home has been invaded by a marauder. A toddling marauder who storms about our four walls wrecking destruction wherever he goes. Not so long ago he was content reading Mr. Men books and helping me bake cookies. Now he is not happy unless half of the fridges' contents are spread upon the kitchen floor and all liquids are released from captivity and liberated from their bottles.

Grandma came a few days ago for her customary March break visit. No sooner was she in the door when Egg demanded his 'gifts' and 'treats'. Obligingly she emptied her suitcase(s) and piled high his outstretched arms with clothes, chocolates and all manner of goodies. The excitement must have proved too much for him as this generosity was later rewarded that afternoon with a specially constructed fecal art installation in his bedroom.

(I know I know. I said no more poo stories and here i go again blabbing disgustedly about this self-same subject. Forgive me. I am traumatised.)

Anyway, yes, jay and entered his room to find the stuff on the walls, in the bed, smeared all over Ollie Dumpies favourite trousers, and most confusingly all over Jay's beloved drums. Not good.

By the time Grandma had woken up the last carpet stain had been disinfected and there was not a trace to be seen - either on the youngster who had been hosed down in the bathtub or in his bedroom....though there did remain an unforgiving whiff about the place which spoke of bad things.

Yesterday morning within the space of an hour Egg emptied a whole bowl of blueberries onto the floor (the majority of which rolled under our fridge and cupboards, probably never to be seen again until they are rotted), helped himself liberally to the unwashed strawberries meant to be used in crepes later, and took it upon himself to crack the last organic egg on the kitchen floor and fingerpaint with it.

Tonight this foodstuffs theme continued with the decoration of our landing in raw oatmeal an inch thick. Earlier this morning he pulled his favourite stunt and snuck in the bathroom and locked the door before we could wedge a foot in. Once inside he proceeded to empty out all the shampoo bottles from the empty bathtub where he sat grinning at us through the adjoining window in his new yellow puffa jacket (a present from grandma he refuses to take off).

Jay has now accepted a job which starts Monday. Auntie Ba is soon to leave these shores unless a miracle takes place or I drug and hold her hostage (don't laugh, am working out the particulars as i type) and I am about to enter the world of the absolutely insane. I am not cut out for this. I don't have the energy and i lack the conviction.

I wouldn't be surprised if jay comes home one day from work to find Ollie battered up paper-mache style in a peanut butter and rice krispie concoction - and me knocked out unconcious on the first floor landing, where i've fallen after chasing Egg down the stairs for the umpteenth time. Lo...the end is nigh.