Growler

The hardest part was finding a nappy large enough to fit over my arse. I’d managed to source a onesie, but ┬ánappies were proving tricky to find. I just settled for a huge pad.

Then, I struggled working out what toy I’d carry around all day. The toy I’d scream over if left in the car. The one I’d make you scramble for on your hands and knees at bed time. The one I couldn’t sleep without. I settled on a large bulldog. I named him Growler.

You see, my kids were shitting me and I thought, man, these little terrors live a charmed life, I want a taste of what they’ve got. So, I grabbed my Growler and made my way into my kids’ room. It was 5.45am and I thought it best I woke them, like they do me everyday. I mean why should they get all the fun? I jumped straight onto Miss L’s bed. I put my feet in her face. I wriggled around. I kissed her gently, careful to leave a trail of snot on her lips. Then, I wriggled into Miss E’s bed and straddled her like a pony and bounced up and down, before pushing her to the edge of bed, so she was left without blankets. I had a bit trouble getting into Miss H’s cot. There was a slight incident of me getting my leg stuck and falling head first into it, before hearing a suspicious creaking sound. I got out as fast as I could before it collapsed, but not before pulling her eyelids up to check if she was awake.

Next stop breakfast. I refused to eat it until I got the bunny bowl and matching spoon. There was a scene when I didn’t get the biggest piece of toast and I wasn’t allowed to pour my own milk in my cup. But in the end it didn’t really bother me, because I had no intention of eating any of it anyway and instead I settled in front of the television to watch my favourite Dora episode for the 500th time.

I spent the rest of the day asking for something to eat every fifteen minutes and then stashing half eaten food all over the house. I particularly enjoyed it when I threw myself onto the ground in the shopping centre screaming, yet it was pretty awkward when the shop assistant called security to help get me out of the shopping trolley seat. But it was the moment my kids found me standing in the bathroom with no pants on, bending over touching my toes, singing: “Wipe my bum, wipe my bum”, that really freaked them out.

By 5 o’clock, I’d eaten enough Arrowroot biscuits for a lifetime, Growler was giving me the shits and I was hanging out for a coffee and a stiff drink. Frankly, being a child, while void of responsibility and requiring no clothes washing, was mind numbingly boring after a couple of hours.

So, I put my bra on, poured a gin and let my husband play with my Growler.

Have you ever been tempted to regress?

bigwords x