Bank Holiday 'Fun'

Sometime, long, long ago, I remember how a Bank Holiday Monday went down.  We'd wake up around mid morning, have some breakfast, watch a movie or go do some shopping {for us, not house items or brightly coloured plastic, loud, irritating tat} & we'd finish it off by jumping back into bed for a few hours before ordering in some food all whilst tanking a bottle of something cold & alcoholic.

Today? Well, at approximately 6.42am I was woken up by the sound of the TV being put on full blast - having never had the desire to be the most irritating human on the planet before, I have fought any urge to keep my finger on the + button until it maxed out so I wasn't sure how loud a TV actually went.  Turns out it's really, really, really loud. The kind of loud that you think might make your eyeballs bleed.  You see, this is one of those parenting cross roads.  In part, it's great when the small humans get to the point where they are happy to get up & play for a bit themselves, but by letting them do so, even for 5 minutes, it can cost you the rest of the day as the carnage they can cause in that time is something that will need you to be sorting for the next 7 hours. It's a tough call.  The pull to stay in bed for those extra few minutes is strong.  Like the Force.  But the desire not to spend your day again picking up and putting away more crap that you don't even recognise {as your Mum in Law has most likely smuggled it into your house} is fighting with your lazy arse self & wants to win.  Bad. 

Anyway, back to this morning.  Once I'd lept out of bed with the grace of a newborn cow & bolted {ok, I couldn't bolt anywhere - maybe stumbled around at a slightly faster pace}, I could find small humans nowhere.  And yet, the TV was screaming at me at a level that said it too was pissed off at being woken from it's Bank Holiday slumber.  Of course, the remote control was nowhere to be seen either so a quick fumble of a load of hidden buttons & there you go.  Silence.  Now, where are the small humans I am betting are responsible for this? By the instant yelling of 'Muuuuuuuuum.  We were watching that' I trace them to a bedroom.  Both laying totally hidden under the duvet which I am assuming is an attempt to save their eardrums from exploding.  Really?  Watching it? From under there? 'Yes Mum - we arrrrrrrrrrrre'.  Ok.  So why are you hiding under the duvet? 'Can we have breakfast'.  Obviously. And that's me up.