We’ll stick with Duplo…..

So there’s not a lot of aspects of motherhood that I won’t talk about. I’d like to think I’m quite open and honest and not shy when it comes to the bad times. But this might just take the biscuit.

It’s 6.30 pm and the boys are in the bath. A pretty normal evening. When I say normal I mean no-one ate dinner, I had to pin them both down to brush their teeth, they acted like I was torturing them whilst I washed their hair but now they’re playing and all is OK. I nip to the kitchen to get their bottles of milk ready for bed. *DISCLAIMER* We live in a cottage so our bathroom is off our kitchen. I can still see/hear the kids whilst I potter about in the kitchen so please don’t think I’m an awful mother!!! that bit comes later.

I go back into the bathroom and all looks just as I left it. The boys are playing with their bath toys, the bathroom floor is 2 inches deep in water, my expensive shampoo has been used to wash lego men. Standard. Then H stands up and I realise I must never ever leave them together for longer then 2 second’s without my supervision. I immediately ask N what on earth has happened to H and he simply giggles and says ‘lego baby bum’. Yup. Lego in the baby’s bum. A full lego man in the baby’s bum. HE HAS PUT A LEGO MAN IN THE BABY’S BUM. WHAT.THE.HELL. This is a new low. What would ever make a child want to do this? WHY HAS HE DONE THIS. WHY IS H NOT CRYING. H actually finds the whole thing quite funny. I am of course panicking and envisioning him sitting down and impaling himself with an entire lego man (currently I can see torso and legs). I quickly retrieve said lego man, followed by a loud ‘oh fucking shite’.

The lego man is headless. HEADLESS. WAS HE HEADLESS BEFOREHAND? I know he wasn’t headless. J is too precious with lego to allow him to be headless. NOW HE IS HEADLESS.

To cut a long gross story short, the head never emerged and I admitted defeat and put both boy’s to bed after a very in depth conversation as to why lego men should not go up bum’s. The highlight of my parenting career, by far. By the following morning I had all but forgotten the incident (or pushed the memory deep into my subconscious never to emerge again). I go to work, have a great day and go to pick the boy’s up from nursery. I walk into get H and am greeted with a teeny tiny sandwich bag with a very clean lego man head. Yup. Nursery have fished a lego man head out of H’s shit and were thoughtful enough to return it to me (thankfully cleaned).

I wonder if they have a three strike system and next time my children turn up talking about all the Mcdonald’s they eat or shitting out lego heads we’ll get excluded? Or tactfully asked to find alternative childcare. Hmm…


** Weirdly, I stuck a lego man up my own nose as a child and had to get it professionally removed. Maybe I carry some weird gene that makes us want to stuff lego men into orifices… creepy. 



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