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.

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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.

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See you on Boxing Day.

xxx

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