I had the best intentions, but I’ve created absolute havoc in another household.
Heaps of stuff got chucked in my frantic race to get my house ready for off-market sale. Among the loot was a giant stuffed tiger that used to belong to the eldest.
I asked DD’s neighbour if his kids would like it and he was super keen.
He’s deeply regretting that decision now, as the three kids endlessly bicker over whose turn it is to have the tiger, which is being switched among them at heavily supervised 15 minute intervals.
Although, there have been occasional upsides …
He sent a photo of the kids standing at the bottom of the stairs yesterday morning with the explanation: “All refusing to come up because we told them whoever wakes up and comes up last in the morning gets first turn of the tiger.”
They sent us a lovely thank you note too.
The neighbour sent a text to DD speculating about the wrenching memoir one of the kids might write one day … “we had a tough childhood, only ever had one tiger that we had to share and fight over”.
DD riffed back his news story version of events: “We were a happy family until we were given a soft toy – now it’s fallen apart. Eliza Cooper tells Mamamia how an seemingly innocuous gift changed her life for ever.”
Meanwhile, the anxiety rises for me, with not a single prospect on the real estate map for me to buy.
This could get hairy …
Song of the day: Survivor “Eye of the tiger”
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