So the week ends on a high!
You just can’t beat a Friday. How many days are simply wasted by counting down to the day that signals a collective sigh of relief.
It didn’t start well, however.
Shouty Mama returned – and no I didn’t pledge on January 1st to shout less at my kid, there is no point.
Two minutes after we’re due to leave I suggest he should get dressed. No, that’s not quite right. I demanded he get dressed.
‘I’m not ready to’, he replies.
Seriously, who does he think he is? Frickin’ Lady GaGa.
So imagine my delight half way through the day when my lovely brother offers to take darling T to a football match, giving me a free afternoon on a Saturday.
Do I think Tynecastle is an appropriate place for a three-year-old?
No, not at all.
Do I want my son indoctrinated into the soul destroying, pointless pasttime that is following Scottish Football.
God no. A life sentence would be more pleasurable.
But a FREE afternoon on a Saturday. I’m fucking delighted.
So my day was significantly cheered by the prospect of planning these few spare hours tomorrow afternoon.
Let the weekend commence!