It is a well documented fact that I am not by choice an early riser. If needs must, I will stagger out of bed, rumpled and dazed and perform whatever duties may be required to ensure a smooth running of the household, and when necessary get my children to school in a timely manner. My preference remains however, to stay in bed and delay my rising until after my husband has performed these tasks and the house is again quiet. I admit to feeling a small twinge of guilt, that while I am resplendent in slumber, my better half (ha ha ha ) prepares breakfasts and lunches and marshals whatever forces are required to get the kids out the door.
So it is relief when the weekend roles around that I can sleep late without the guilty twinges, so I was not impressed to awaken early on Saturday morning to an almighty crash from the kitchen, followed by Grady yelling at Sid "What did you do ?" . A muffled heated exchange follows and then I hear "That f***ing cat!". That was coming from my ten year old son. It would appear the feline in question, being chased by another had skidded across the stove top and sent the element covers crashing to the floor, causing said noise.
My more immediate concern was my husband, who by now was also awake. "Did you hear that ?" he hissed. "Yes" I whispered back, "Sounds like it came from the kitchen". "Not that" he hissed again, "Your son and his potty mouth, that's all your doing!". Geez, all hell breaking loose and that's what he decides to focus on !
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