The boys are back to school today. No, of course I didn’t heave a huge sigh of relief. I’m not that kind of heartless, uncaring, ‘get thee back to school’ mother. Admittedly I did do a quick bit of Toni Basil (‘Oh Mickey You’re So Fine’) cheerleading with some imaginary pompoms on the landing when I got back to my empty, silent house, but hey, nobody’s perfect.
Hubby and I had to go to Dublin, and after Friday, when we went out for a Chinese with D and the kids and came back to find that Bertie had chewed my beautiful new double doors, we decided not to try shutting him in the kitchen again. Gordon knows I’m not houseproud, (Hubby hoovers more than I do and I hate dusting with all my kidneys – what a pointless occupation) but he keeps getting up on the sofa and I don’t really want my guests to be competing with an enormous, territorial greyhound every time they try and sit down, so I’m trying to wean him off it. This time, then, we shut the lounge doors, all the doors upstairs, and left him with the run of the rest of the house. This worked incredibly well as when we got back several hours later, all seemed absolutely fine. He got a revolting, hairy pig’s ear as a treat (I won’t touch them, which is why Bertie loves Hubby so much – he’s prepared to run the hairy gauntlet with the pig’s ear box).
When I went upstairs, however, I noticed that #2’s door couldn’t have been shut properly as there was a little Bert nest on the bed. This consisted of one of my pink wellies, one of Hubby’s Dr Martens, two pairs of the boys’ trainers, my Ugg boots, a pair of pyjamas, a furry cushion and an empty Lenor bottle lifted from the utility room. Actually, I’m quite impressed. What other creature would think to entertain himself with a little ‘It’s a Knockout’ game, rushing up and down the stairs collecting various discarded items (all unharmed) to stash in their little duvet nest carefully scraped and scrunched into a comfy shape?
I wonder if he’s half Womble??