You know that feeling when someone is watching you, in a creepy way not a good way.
Yeah, that way, makes you feel a bit icky.
Well I got that feeling yesterday, I was trying to inhale a cup of coffee before the kids began rugby tackle smack down, and my referee skills would be required, when I thought
“Ohhh something’s not right?”
I turn around and this beady eyed bugger is staring at me.
Just stood there, on the wall staring, like I was in the wrong, even though he’s the flea infested fur ball that has been digging up the garden and destroying the bulbs.
I was distracted from fetching a shoe or something to throw at him by his lady friend who was sat on the ground just outside the back door.
My initial panic over being eaten alive by rabid foxes was jacked up a notch when the cheeky sods strolled leisurely to the back of the garden and hopped up on to the roof of the kitchen.
I sprint up the stairs to check the windows were closed, they were, panic averted, or so I thought.
The kids had followed me upstairs and were looking out their bedroom window at the foxes, which is when everything went to crap.
The foxes decided to have a party for two.
In the back garden.
Whilst the kids were looking out the window.
I knew one day we would need to have the “talk” with the boys, when I woke up that morning I was neither expecting nor prepared for that talk.
“Mummy look! The wolf is there! LOOK, LOOK!”
“Mummy THERE’S TWO WOLVES LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK!”
“I’m loooooooooking…….ummm lets go back downstairs and umm yeah, lets just go down stairs”
At this point Mr Fox and his lady friend had decided to take things to the next level, I was all arms flapping trying to shoo the kids downstairs not wanting to get in to any kind of discussion with the kids about what was going on.
“Mummy, what are they doing?”
“He’s giving her a special hug”
“Can we have a special hug?”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, no no.”
“Why? Why is he hugging her like that?”
“I like hugs”
Having an internal debate with myself to just ignore my children and walk away or try coming up with a sensible answer.
Of course, I do neither and end up sprouting nonsense which really informs them of nothing and leaves their poor little brains working over time wondering if today is the day that mummy has totally lost the plot.
“Well, Mr and Mrs Fox love each other so they shared a special hug.”
“Why can’t we have a special hug?”
“That kind of hug is only for grown ups, not children or baby foxes”
“Okay………does daddy have special hugs?”
“When he’s been good”
“Huh, I’M A PRINCESS”
“AND I’M A BOY CALLED ETHAN”
They jump across the beds, race down stairs and begin their rugby tackle smack down with added spinning just to make it little bit more dangerous, whilst I wonder how many years of therapy they will need to get over seeing foxes going at it like dogs and mummy explaining its just a hug.