Yesterday’s corner time: 36 Minutes.
Yesterday evening, I destroyed the garden playhouse with a softball bat resulting in my longest period of detention so far.
By the time I stood back to admire my handiwork, the door was hanging off its hinges and every pane of glass had been shattered. Nice work. I went to fetch Mum.
That turned out to be a BIG mistake.
She wasn’t as impressed as I had hoped she’d be and instead turned purple with rage. Purple really doesn’t suit her but I judged that this probably wasn’t the best time to mention it.
I was marched inside and exiled to the corner. I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about really; I knew Dad would be able to fix it. He can fix anything. He may swear profusely in the process but he gets the job done.
I suggested that Mum enlist Dad’s help, so that he could make a start on restoring the playhouse to its former glory.
That turned out to be a BIG mistake.
My judgement appeared to be failing me miserably. Is it possible to get a new one?
Dad went to inspect the damage and I could hear him swearing away in the garden, so I assumed that he must have started on the repairs.
Suddenly, I was being whisked out to the crime scene and told that my behaviour had been disgraceful and that the door was beyond repair.
Well, I couldn’t believe that.
I completed my appraisal of the maintenance work required and suggested that the damage was merely cosmetic and that with a bit of tape and a bash of a hammer, it would be as good as new. After all, I pointed out, the doorknob was still intact. At which point it dropped off.
Dad then hinted that that wouldn’t be the only knob to meet an untimely demise. I nodded in agreement before realizing that he meant me.
Matthew.
Related Posts: Playhouse, Sticky Fingers
About Me
- Matthew
- I'm Matthew, I'm 6 years old. I have a Mum, a Dad and an annoying, 4 year old sister, Becca. I started writing this blog when I was two. I had more time on my hands in those days. Becca wasn't even born and I didn't have to attend school for every waking hour. Still, whenever I can, I get up to mischief and I document my adventures here.
8 comments:
36 minutes for an excellent demolition job seems a bit harsh Matthew, perhaps if you suggested that this was training for your chosen career they would understand???
Good idea! They didn't appear to appreciate all the effort that I had put into the destruction.
Hysterical as always. Perhaps you should try sharing a little credit for your masterpieces with your sister. Kind of like a royal taste tester. If all goes well, you can always clarify who the engineer was. And if not.. well, you may have only had 18 minutes in exile.
Now why didn't I think of that! My judgement is letting me down all over the place.
Dear future husband.
Can you believe that my parents had been reading your blog for a few weeks without realising that we were to be betrothed at some point in the future. In case you have a really short memory, I am the stunning blonde you met at Chessington today.
We have lots in common. My sister is also very annoying and everyone seems to think that she is unbelievably pretty to boot.
So, any time you fancy meeting behind the rides at Chessington (like my Mum used to, apparently) then please let me know.
Lots of love and adoration
Emily
Oh.
Dear.
Oh Dear Oh Dear.
Dear Emily, Of course I remember you - how could I possibly forget!
I apologise if my advances were too direct. Apparently, I need to learn some finesse.
I'd love to meet you again but what happens behind the rides? Isn't it more fun to go on the rides? I think your Mum has failed to grasp the concept.
Adults, eh? Can't live with them ....
Ginger - Yes, my parents said something similiar. Well, words to that effect anyway ;-)
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