In which Custard is getting used to school

So yesterday was a pretty good day really. Custard did not yell when he went in to school. Turns out his teacher has given him a 'small animal, what is like a dog, called Fluffy' to look after.

Me: Is it a real animal?

Custard: (astonished): No

Me: What sort of animal like a dog is it Custard?

Custard: (as if I'm completely stupid): A dog.

He clearly had a good time at nursery yesterday. He came home with his bright blonde hair painted an autumnal russett, and the back of his jumper was in the same condition.

Me: I see you've been painting today.

Custard: No we haven't.

Whatever it was he had been doing exhausted him, so an hour later I push the buggy back to school to get Mouse, with Custard perched on the back. I rig up a makeshift seat with my handbag (Making me wince, it's quite posh), and he falls asleep leaning over the hood. I have to keep him on there by periodically kneeing him into position, which is quite satisfying.

An hour and a half later we are back to school again to get FHB. Mouse scoots there in flip flops. Not a great idea. After two tumbles and a good sob, and now missing the toe of a flip flop, we collect FHB, who is TIRED AND DOES NOT WANT TO GO SWIMMING.

On the way home, Custard shows me his arm. It has a large bite mark on it. Still wet.

Custard: (happily): Miss T bit me.

Me: Really? Only there's a lot more teeth in that bite mark than there are in Miss T's mouth.

Custard: No she did, look. (Takes bite out of own arm).

Me: Hmmm. What a shock. It matches the other one. Don't try to get your sister into trouble.

Custard reverts to pulling his sister's hair while she beats him with her Makka Pakka telephone.

At the swimming pool it is all a lot smoother than last week. Except when I try to remove the DS from FHB in order for him to get changed. We will not discuss what he did, but suffice it to say, he has lost DS priviledges for a month.

I decide not to tell W what FHB did either, in case he cancels Christmas. Instead, we head off to the cliff gardens, where W meets us with a large bag of fish n chips, scampi, mushy peas and meat pie. The kids think this is a great adventure and I derive much amusement from listening to W try to get them to Sit Down and Eat Nicely, while they run up the slope as far as they can and then pelt down it, trying not to fall off the ledge at the bottom, chips flying.

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This morning Custard is persuaded to go into school with the promise of a Kit Kat. He mortifies me by shouting loudly, and many times, that he wants a Fried Kit Kat after school. I worry people will think this is likely (Not lately, not sober, and not for the kids! And we've only ever tried Quality Street).

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