boss man

Children, I should say my children, don't have a whole lot of power, you know? 

They're told when and what to eat. When to shower. What to wear. How to speak politely. There's so many rules when you're a kid.

We were talking about bosses the other day and Henry said to me, "but you're not the boss Mum." I was very surprised, because (obviously) I am, but I said, "you mean Daddy's the boss?" and Henry said, "No, Jesus is the boss."

I don't wish to offend any of my religious friends, but Adam and I are not and while Adam was snorting his steamed chicken up his windpipe I was considering pulling Henry out of his one hour a week of scripture at school. 'Cept I won't. The boy seems to have a calling. Who am I to stand in the way of a calling. 

But I digress. 

I made a deal with Henry some time ago that he could be the boss for the day, on his first day of school holidays. I was making it up, I had no idea what parameters would need to be set. 

The first thing he planned to do when he was the boss was to catch a plane to Vanuatu to see the only live volcano in the region. 

So we set the first rule: no airplane travel.

Next plan: bacon for breakfast. That I could do. 

Here is what you do when you're the boss in my house, and you're six years old…

:: Eat bacon for breakfast

:: Change your name for the day and insist, vehemently, that everyone calls you Herny for the day. Herny. Seriously. 

:: Spend two hours at the genetics clinic at Westmead Children's Hospital. (OK that was a pre-arranged appointment he had no choice in.)

:: Eat two (TWO) lindt chocolate balls being given away by elves at Westmead. 

:: Request the Christmas version of Angry Birds be downloaded onto Mum's iPhone. 

:: Request unlimited access to above-mentioned iPhone. (Handed it back happily every time it rang or beeped. Very cooperative boss.)

:: Request frenched lamb cutlets for lunch. 

:: Ask to be driven to North Sydney, to Mum's old work, to visit an old favourite workmate of Mum's, and take him out for a milkshake. (This is my friend Ben, who Henry, or should I say, Herny, has always loved. He bought Ben a Lightening McQueen die-cast car for his birthday last year, unprompted. This visit was the highlight of his day.)

:: Suggest chips for afternoon tea. 

:: Ask to watch youtube on Mum's computer. (Please can you search for "Angry Birds", Mum?)

:: Go get takeaway Chinese noodles for dinner. 

:: Have icecream for dessert, even though it's not dessert night.

:: Demand Dad read the entire new favourite book all about sharks before bed. 

:: Wake up the next morning and suggest you get to be the boss again – to find it happens only once a year. And doesn't start till you start school in case you think you might conscript your sister.



Anyway lovely friends, it's time for me to say HAPPY CHRISTMAS!

I'm going to take a little blog break up until just after Christmas now, and will be back here on Boxing Day. I'm feeling just a little bit stretched, there's quite a lot on, and I blog here because I love it, and think I need to lighten the load for a week in order to keep loving it!!

I hope you all have a wonderful, wonderful Christmas and I look forward to hearing all about it.

I'll be back with the crafting and cooking which I can't fit in alongside blog-writing just this week (and alongside the Christmas parties and the kids and the visitors!)

Merry Christmas, and thank you for making this year so amazing. I love this little space here. Love it. Thanks for sharing it with me.

See you on Boxing Day.


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