I know a funny little man,

1779193_10153008595799410_4362187196715234541_n[1]So tonight G3 found herself locked out of her iPod for approximately 44 years.

Yup, 44 years.

Said iPod had been sitting idol as G3 had a sleep over with her Aunt and was busy doing other stuff so hadn’t touched it.

Then this evening, Yikes!

Like a banshee over the moors she tore down the hallway, iPod held high, baying for blood.

But you see, it wasn’t G1 and it certainly, really, truly, wasn’t G2. I wouldn’t even know where she keeps it and Dan couldn’t care less about such things.

So “Mr Nobody” strikes again.

I should give G1 and G2 the benefit of the doubt, maybe there was a glitch. Or maybe they’re just getting better at lying to me.

iPod harmony has been restored, so tensions have subsided, and I’m not pushing the matter as it sits well inside the small stuff in my “Don’t sweat the small stuff” philosophy.

But it got me thinking about white lies and the fudging of truths used in youth.

Mum, I know you read these (she’s my second biggest fan, love ya Mum), so feel free to look away now so you don’t feel deceived.

Probably the biggest thing I remember doing is-

Making mess and hiding it.

We had beanbags in our lounge room. Greatest spill coverup-erers EVER. Drinking a milo, scooping the teaspoon down for some extra soggy chocolaty goodness, whoops! There goes the cup. Could get up and get a wet chux. Could get some rag on a roll and soak it up. Or, could get up, move the bean bag on top, sit back down, and bobs your uncle.

My gosh I could slap my lazy little self.

Or, breaking things and hiding them.

My middle sister cut the hair off a bunch of her barbie dolls and stashed the hair, and dolls in her cupboard. I cant remember if mum found the hair or the dolls first. Either way. Hilarious.

Or, hurting myself and hiding it.

Yeah, I did that. Weird I know.

I was cutting an orange once with a stanley knife, as you do, slipped and sliced my leg. First thought was shit (or probably darn, as swearing wasn’t about back in those days), I shouldn’t even have this knife! First reaction was to get a tissue, soak up that blood and get on some long pants so Mum didn’t find out. The pain was worth suffering in silence compared to the beating I’d get. Kidding Mumma! It was better than the stern talking to.

The biggest cover up I ever undertook was when I was having a sleepover at my BFF’s house which was across town from where I lived.

If memory serves me right her parents were out and I had forgotten something from home. So we decided to hop on her peewee 50 and slip through the bush to my house, grab what I forgot and head back. All before her parents got home, as she was not supposed to ride it without them there.

We were also both never ever allowed to hop on motorbikes without the required helmet, shoes and long pants.

We were in our PJ’s, and thongs.

Anyway, getting there was fine, but on the way back, which was dark, we came off in some sand, the peewee landing square on my calf. Burning a nice stripy pattern into my flesh.

Again, first thought was, shit, we are in deep, deep trouble!

So fast as lightning we got ourselves home, and I guess I either put on some long pants, or just went straight to bed, where we spent hours and hours coming up with a plan to explain away this very clear, and very painful, motorbike injury to my mother. A nurse.

By morning it was decided.

We had another friend, who’s parents didn’t knock around our parents, and they had just had a baby.

Perfect scapegoats.

The silly folks left their heater on in their lounge room, yes, yes I know its December and 40degrees but baby’s need to be warm you know? Anyway, BFF and I were visiting her and helping look after the baby, coz we’re just good like that, plus it counts towards our babysitters club plan for which business should start kicking off any day, and clumsy me lent right on the heater! Crazy hey? Yup, those 5 vertical strip burns on my calf are from that darn heater! Wouldn’t read about it.

Anyway, lesson learned. Now how abouts some silvadene and a milo.

Ha, who am I kidding. I’m sure Mum was onto all these anyway.

She can rest easy however, safe in the knowledge that my girls are wreaking all kinds of vengeance on me.



2 thoughts on “I know a funny little man,

  1. Deanne James

    See this is why older siblings never let younger ones in on anything. Sooner or later they are always going to let the cat out of the bag!!!
    I do love the hurt and hide, my first thoughts exactly when I had a motorbike burn! Ok ok how are we going to explain this and can my skinless thigh go unnoticed?



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