Daniel has been round at our neighbours and the 13-year-old daughter has put make-up on him, much to his delight.
That's not unusual about that, I hear you cry. He's a boy, having fun with his friend, messing about.
Quite right. My point is that when he came back, it took me and his brother half an hour to even notice he was wearing make-up!!
I suddenly understand what people who have male and female offspring are banging on about when they brag, 'oh, I'm so pleased, I have one of each'.
Daniel has a tendency for 'breaking wind' when he's having a giggling fit and I always worry that he may, erm, follow through, shall we say'. The other day I told him to calm down: "Be careful Daniel or you might come out." (oh well, I thought, save you doing it when you're 24)
Speaking of form-filling, I took Daniel and his friend to their athletics training the other day and had to fill in a medical form for both of them.
I asked his friend: "Have you ever had any illnesses?"
Friend shook his head but Daniel piped up: "Yes you have, you had shingle bells once."
Greeting the aforementioned adorable little boy when he came home from a day at his friend's house yesterday, I said: "Hi Daniel, I missed you today."
To which he retorted: "But dad's been here with you."
"Well, yes I know, but he was busy working in the other room."
Daniel: "But, you've got the TV."
"I know Daniel but I didn't want to watch anything."
"Well, you've got the washing machine and ironing and washing up."
Silly me.
I've decided that in our house, OCD has two acronymic variations.
For me, it stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, so out of the closet and comfortable with my D for Disorder that I'm sat on top of the closet, clad in my Marigolds and proudly waving my duster (but will have to get the Dyson out to clean up from after all the duster waving).
My dear husband, however, is still inside the closet, hanging his hangers the same way round and, in his case, the D of OCD is for Denial.
The other day I momentarily abandoned some crumbs on the worktop. In the split second while I turned to take some cutlery to the sink, he pounced like a hungry crumb-eating tiger. I jumped in front of him and mentioned the D word (Disorder) and he completely Denied it.
I challenged him to leave the crumbs to which he scoffed that it wasn't a problem. So I left the room, admittedly twitching slightly myself, but like I say, I'm healthily embracing my 'hygiene issues' (once I've wiped them down of course).
My back was scarcely turned and the crumbs were gone. Sigh.
The 'baby on board' sticker industry has gone bonkers. Now it's personalised 'Samuel and Maisy on Board', 'Alfie's Little Sister on Board'. Before it's even born the baby's presence in the vehicle gets a proud sticker mention as the other say I spied 'Mum-to-be on Board'. Cue more sighing.
Hey, what about taking it back a step further; 'Get Out of the Way, Horny Male on his Way to have Sex with his Bird and perhaps get her Knocked up on Board'. (sorry about that, but the 'twinkle in his eye' pun is just a bit too tame and dated in a post-Jeremy Kyle era)
I need one for my car. 'Slightly Depressed, Slightly Overweight, Very Overworked and Very Underpaid Middle-aged Mum-of-two and Wife to one OCD-inflicted Husband on Board'.
And then I want another sticker under it saying 'GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY (as Kathy Bates said in one of my favourite films Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café), I'm older and have more insurance.'
