Knees

They really are everywhere. I know I mentioned this before, but it is astonishing given that it is now, *checks watch* December 11th*.

The builders don’t have much choice, mind. Their boss, a no-nonsense Kiwi who took half a meter off our bathroom when England beat the All Blacks 38-21, has told them in no uncertain terms that ‘long pants’ are a sign of weakness, and that anyone wearing them will be sent home to change. So I see knees wherever I go. Knees climbing past my living room window, knees dangling at eye level as I duck into the kitchen… knees, knees, knees. Slightly shivering knees now, it has to be said, but they show no sign of wavering on this one. I wonder whether the depths of Winter will inspire a change of heart.

The builders on top of the knees are very pleasant, convivial types who swear like dockers but bellow ‘language’ at each other whenever they think I might be in earshot. One of them even says ‘pardon’ which I thought had entirely slipped out of general usage.

Anyway, the good news is that the loft is nearly finished, and we should soon be free of dust, more dust and not being able to find a teaspoon for love or money, which seems to be a daily occurrence at the moment.

The boys are enjoying the chaos, thrilled that we’re building them a naughty step and have ramped up the behaviour accordingly. In case this is my last post before Christmas, wishing you all a very merry festive season and all the best for 2013.

*Must write Christmas cards.

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4 thoughts on “Knees

  1. So who’s getting the new loft room, then? When we got ours done, we found that people assumed it was going to be the kids. “Ah, your boys are going to love it up there.”
    “No fear, me & Julia are having it. Separate bathroom, and a bedroom another floor away from all the noise.”
    And they’d look at us as if we’d just said, “Oh, we’ve decided to harvest a kidney from each of the boys to help pay for Christmas this year,” as if loft rooms automatically go to the kids as part of their birthright. No way; we paid for it, we’re having it.” No builders’ knees, though. Oh, our youngest says ‘pardon?’. No idea where he got it from, the rest of us all say ‘what?’ The thing is, with the loft conversion, communications do become a bit more difficult from the furthest extremes of the house. So when we’re having one of those difficult conversations, Robbie’s shouting “ParDON?!!!” at top volume up the stairs. Weird. I’m fully expecting it to be prefaced by ‘I beg your’ any day soon. Don’t imagine his manners generally are anything to write home about just because he uses this rather passé word. He’s still perfectly capable of attempting to eat a roast dinner with his fingers.

    1. That’s exactly it. We’re annexing the loft for ourselves. I might not even bother putting stairs in, might just retain the hatch and retractable ladder system for a swift and effective getaway from the kids. Good to know there are still a few truly polite types out there. I’d attempt to teach the small boys to say pardon but I think they’d laugh in my face. Again.

  2. I’m glad I get email notifications of your new posts, I only checked in last night so it was a nice surprise to see a new post. Slightly ironic too, as when I read this post this morning I was sat in my car waiting for Boo to come out of forest school wearing thermal leggings, leggings, cords and waterproof trousers…. plus 3 layers on top, all topped off by a huge puffy down jacket. The thought of having my knees out in this is nearly sent me back to bed!
    Glad the end is in sight on the building works, give the boys big hugs from me.

    1. Thermal leggings? That sounds awesome, must get me a pair. As I’m sure you know, I’m very much of the swaddle every inch of flesh thoroughly in eight layers school of thought when it comes to Winter. None of this knees nonsense.

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