Croup, robotic legs and a hard think

Things I’ve learned from my children today.

Croup is not left behind with the Victorians. I thought croup was a relic of mob caps and knickerbokers along with consumption and gout. But when Boy Three started coughing and barking last night I found out that I was wrong. I’m pleased to report, however, that he is no longer making alarming noises and seems to be almost back to normal.

Mr Milligan has a robotic leg. According to Boy Two, Mr M, their gym teacher has a robotic leg. Apparently he told the class the day Boy Two was off having his swine flu injection. It’s got pistons and wires and the bits are all hidden under his skin. So now you know too.

My punishments aren’t harsh enough. Boy One is permanently cross with Boy Two. Boy One is a bit of a police boy and likes to see rules enforced and lines toed. Boy Two doesn’t really… doesn’t at all actually. This gives rise to conflict. Boy Two may have done something hideous, like picking up Boy One’s magazine. Boy One said: “You’re not strict enough mummy.”
“Oh?”
“Shouting doesn’t work on Boy Two.”
“Not always,” I agreed.
“I think you should give him a good, hard thinking.”
“What’s that then?”
“You know, like when you burst his balloon for hitting you with it. You sent him to his room for a good think.”

And a joke from Boy One:
What does Medusa wash her hair with?
Sssssssssssssssshampoo obviously.