"Cookers clean!", SuperSpouse said defiantly, when I commented that beefburger grease was pouring off the baking trays, down the cooker doors because he had the baking trays tilted too much. Indeed, there was even grease on the kitchen floor. Yeurghhh!
Now, don't get me wrong - I love coming home to a cooked meal. It's one of the nicest things a husband can do for a wife. My mother-in-law used to be envious of me, I might add. It was just the - well, the GREASINESS of everything, last night!
And you know something? It took me 100 minutes and seven Brillo pads to clean the cooker, and I swear the blooming cooker never lifted a finger to help! If cookers clean, why do I spend so much time wiping surfaces in the kitchen?
Yesterday morning I was shanghai'ed into arranging a sleepover for last night. That was Viola-Kid's doing. He and his pal had been discussing it at school, but omitted to mention it to us boring grown-ups. Still, it worked out. We had the sleepover, and this morning I took four little boys to the Hunterian Museum at the University of Glasgow. The museum has just reopened after a makeover. The boys were entranced. (They also loved the helium balloons that were being given away. Especially when Cello-Kid remembered that inhaling helium does weird things to your voice.... )
Oh, I nearly forgot to mention - Cello-Kid and I had the ritual "back-to-back" height-measuring contest just now. I'm still taller, but only just. Watch this space. Last night I dreamt his voice had broken, but it was still treble this morning ...
image from http://boudicca.mu.nu/archives/Atlanta%2005%20011.jpg