'Hi Mum', a cleary flustered Son called out as he walked into the kitchen. His hair was unusually dishelved, t-shirt wrinkly and messy and he looked a little beat-up. Son dragged himself to the dining table and plonked himself down on the chair.
He then complained aloud, 'They are a crazy bunch. They pulled my hands, tugged my shirt and were very rowdy. I could hardly speak, they were talking nineteen to the dozen. They took me for granted, called out for help at the slightest thing!'
I tried to show sympathy, then added, 'It's ok, not everyone's like that, maybe your friends had a bad day today'.
Son stared at me, his mouth agape. 'Friends?, I'm not talking about my friends. Mr K asked me to help watch the 6-year old preschoolers today'.
Son subjugated by cuties??...........
He then complained aloud, 'They are a crazy bunch. They pulled my hands, tugged my shirt and were very rowdy. I could hardly speak, they were talking nineteen to the dozen. They took me for granted, called out for help at the slightest thing!'
I tried to show sympathy, then added, 'It's ok, not everyone's like that, maybe your friends had a bad day today'.
Son stared at me, his mouth agape. 'Friends?, I'm not talking about my friends. Mr K asked me to help watch the 6-year old preschoolers today'.
Son subjugated by cuties??...........
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