It's Tuesday morning. One of my precious days off and by some small miracle I don't have to be doing something critical elsewhere. I can go home and write. 

But.... When I got back from the school run, I made a discovery in the boot of the car. Now I'm torn. Should I get back in the car and go all the way back to the school to give my eldest son his rugby kit bag (the one he left in the car not 2hrs ago when I dropped him off) or should I let him learn his lesson when he gets an earful from the Coach? Hmmm.. 

My other son is going through a phase of insisting that he doesn't want to work when he grows up. He makes this declaration at regular intervals. 

Upon further questioning, he claims it's because he doesn't want to have to pay for things himself. The kid is no fool, I have to give him that. In fact he's adamant that he wants to live with us forever and ever. Part of my brain thinks this is so cute (he is only 5yrs old after all), but another part of my little addled brain goes into full panic mode until I remind myself of his age. Then logic takes over and I realise he will of course be sick of the sight of us and our rules by the time he's 18 and be desperate to escape. Won't he?

Anyhooo.. back to my dilemma. I've decided I'm going to let Pitt the Elder learn his lesson. Poor sausage! The declarations of Pitt the Younger are influencing my decision here of course. I know I'm an Irish Mammy, but I do not want my sons growing up to be Irish Mammy's Boys! 

Right. I'm off to write (feeling a bit guilty though...)

The Spellchecker Poem

I saw this on another blog and to my shame I can't remember who I pinched it from. So sorry I can give you the credit whoever you are! 


Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.
Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.
As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
Its rarely ever wrong.
Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect in it’s weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.