Bitz

I have been a bit frazzled the last week or so as Richard has been really very sick with a horrible chest infection/virus that has given him a very high temperature and left him bed ridden for the past few days, so I have been alternating taking care of him with trying to keep Luke occupied as he doesn't go back to school until the 8th (what the heck, am sure we didn't have such a long Xmas holiday).

I was doing the dishes this morning, trying to plan the day ahead, you know usual mum stuff i.e. should I hoover next, maybe dust, wipe out the congealed beetroot juice from the fridge shelf (it always ends up staining, even when I don't actually have beetroot in the fridge) when Luke beetles in and announces ...

Luke:"Mummy, I really love the colour of your bits"

Now, Luke calls the private part of the female anatomy her "Bits" and am trying to discourage him from constantly going on about them which he does tend to do I am sure to wind me up.

Me: "What?"

Luke: "I really love the colour of your Bits"

Me: "Luke, I am not very happy about you talking about this" (now am very hot and bothered, wondering what the heck he has been peeping at while I am showering)

Luke: (Now very indignant and tearful sounding) "Your bits mummy, your bits, look!"

Me: (At this point I actually bother to turn around and look at him) "Whaaat!!"

In his hand was a packet of my wholewheat french toast that he calls Bix that he had nabbed from the cupboard earlier on.

Luke: "I really love the colour of the packet, it's really nice, what's the problem mummy?"

Me: "Nothing Luke, nothing at all."

Note to self: In future, turn around when your son is talking to you rather than carry on scrubbing the pots and make sure you always lock the bathroom door (just to be certain).