Mixed Messages

Yesterday's corner time: 16 Minutes.

Not a good day corner wise, largely due to the rediscovery of my water pistol behind the sideboard in the lounge.

Eventually, the water pistol was confiscated when my Mum, alerted by Becca's screams, found me administering headshots to her repeatedly from point blank range. Becca is such a tell-tale. I wonder if my pistol would work as well with ketchup.

In the afternoon, I baked cup cakes with my mother, which was alright for the first dozen but the novelty was wearing off by the 4th batch. I preferred the washing up, although ended up in the corner again when Mum caught me weeing in the sink.

Dad laughed when Mum told him and said "That's my boy!" and that he'd give me a nine for style. I don't understand. Talk about mixed messages.

Matthew.