Living in England means occasionally (often) needing a brolly, because there’s always a significant chance of rain.
The Beasts love a brolly, and it so happens that the umbrellas they currently like to use are rather *ahem* ‘feminine,’ seeing as how Beast 1’s is transparent and covered in pictures of multi coloured clouds, rainbows, unicorns and giant raindrops, and Beast 2’s is just pink and red all over with a giant Minnie Mouse on the side.
Whenever the brollies come out, because you can’t remember why you hid them in the first place, there’s reverent gasps then a collective sigh (‘they’re just so beautiful mummy’). It’s rather endearing to see just how excited two small boys can be about the prospect of taking an umbrella outside. That is, until you actually get outside; the endearment wears off pretty quickly once you’ve remembered why you hid them, and end up muttering under your breath that you’re never getting the stupid things out ever again as they are far more trouble than they’re worth. You’ll also find yourself lamenting that your two small beasts, who are swinging the tiny umbrellas around like machetes, are making it pretty tricky to be the type of mother you always thought you’d be (patient, easygoing, laid back), because all you now want to do is fling the umbrellas into the nearest skip whilst fantasizing about how much wine you’re going to drink later. (Note: actually end up managing about half a glass before falling asleep, rather fetchingly, on the couch with mouth open, smeared in food and general grub, so that husband has to then manhandle you up the stairs into bed). Glamorous – he married a winner 😉
Anywho, being a firm believer in the fact that boys can have as many pink things as they want (and girls as many blue) and it won’t make the teeniest tiniest bit of difference to anything at all, the colour of the brollies doesn’t bother me. It’s the general use (or rather, misuse) of the mini umbrella which makes a normally rational person consider snapping the damn things clean in two over one knee, while shrieking hysterically that ‘it’s no wonder you’re getting bloody wet when you’re not holding it over your *clench teeth tightly so a naughty word doesn’t fall out* head like I keep showing you!’‘
During the course of one forty minute walk (in the rain) the two umbrellas were continually put up, and then and down again, with Beast 1 being particularly impressed by the popper to fasten the tie. After this amazement had passed, they were then used as:
Poking sticks (each other, worms, puddles, and the occasional ladybird, mummy, clumps of mud)
For running along metal fences
At no point when it was actually raining were they used to keep The Beasts dry, leading to general complaints and grumblings about having to walk in the rain.
Upon entering the shop we had to visit, everyone now much soggier, both umbrellas were swiftly opened in unison and brandished about wildly, knocking various things off shelves before Beast 2 managed (somewhat impressively) to poke himself in the eye with one of the spindly bits. This of course then prompted furious wails, arm flailing and more shelf knocking, after launching the umbrella across the room while yelling that IT HIT ME IN THE EYE, MUMMY’.
Needless to say we scurried hastily out of the shop muttering ‘sorry, sorry, yes come on, both of you, yes ok – quickly go and fetch your umbrella then please, no – don’t touch anything else for god’s sake’ we trudge home and start the whole cycle again.
Of course, only once it had stopped raining were the brollies finally raised overhead and held there for more than twenty seconds at a time, at which point The Beasts then refused to put them down for the rest of the way home. This meant that on the narrow paths they were continually bumping into one another as the umbrellas competed for space. Every time Beast 1 brushed against Beast 2, or vice versa, a small (but violent) scuffle would ensue, complete with a good amount of shoving, name calling and ‘HE PUSHED ME MUMMY’s’, while mummy says in bewilderment ‘but it’s not even raining anymore, you don’t need to have the umbrellas up now.’
Finally home, mummy merrily shoves the umbrellas down by the side of the fridge again, to be retrieved when I’ve forgotten what a pain in the bottom they are. I would say ‘next time I’ll just let them get wet’ but that’s actually just what happened anyway, despite both Beasts having the necessary tools to stop them getting wet. So next time I’ll just take the car. Or move somewhere sunny. 🌦💦☔️🙄☀️
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