Now that my daughter is fast approaching 15 I’ve bitten the bullet and taken advantage of her maturity to nip next door to the Co-Op leaving her in charge of Paul. So we have a hierarchy going on; I am in charge, if I am out Daddy’s in charge, if Daddy is also out Kathryn is in charge and that’s as far as we go cos who would be mad enough to leave two boys in the house together alone, neither or them possessing the sense they were born with?
So now, whenever I announce my daily expedition to the Co-Op (I am that forgetful with groceries), Paul has to get it clear in his head who is in charge. Is it Daddy? Is he here? Is is Kathryn? Who’s in charge?!
I don’t know what came over me one day a couple of weeks ago when I mentioned we were out of milk… everyone was here. Paul asked me who was in charge and for a laugh I said “You are toots, enjoy, be back in 5 minutes”. And off I went. To Tesco. For an hour… or so.
Probably longer.
When I got back home MrW was standing on the doorstep waiting and all he said was “Never, ever do that again”.
Spoilsport.
Apparently they’d had to watch Nick Jr and play non-stop Pictureka while serving him biscuits.
It probably says more about my family that they did it.
Or maybe me.
It says something I probably shouldn’t try too hard to hear.
Since then, whenever I threaten to step foot outside without him (and that’s not often) Paul asks “Am I in charge?”
I’ve said yes a couple of times, only to be met with a horrified tot on my return 5 minutes later demanding that I turn round and leave immediately as he hasn’t “…been in charge LONG enough! I didn’t tell anybody to DO anything!”
He does manage to switch the TV channel and get himself something chocolate based in those 5 minutes.
Except yesterday.
Yesterday he got crafty.
Literally.
We’d been making paper snowflakes, but after trying to cut his jeans, hacking my Visa bill to bits and nearly giving himself a crew-cut (lack of co-ordination saved him) the scissors were confiscated until such time as he could do as he was told and only cut the paper I give him to cut.
I needed brandy (for the Christmas cake!). The Co-Op have brandy. So off I went leaving Paul in charge and MrW looking a wee bit exasperated.
Paul promptly marched into the kitchen and expecting a demand for a biscuit, MrW was poised over the digestives, prepared.
“I am in charge now, GIVE ME THE SCISSORS!”
Oooooh.
I’m glad I was at the Co-Op and the queue was long.
mrsw.wordpress.com 
We have a van that comes to the door with vegetables and fruit. When I go there, I often leave five year old in charge of one year old (who’s now two) in her playpen. I always feel like a terrible mother, but I am literally on the doorstep.
I remember feeling bad when I left my first baby in the house (asleep, immobile, in a cot) to go hang out the washing – it’s something you get over 😉
Haha that’s great. I love the pics too, nice snowflake.
I guess he’s a born leader.
I suspect it’s the closest we’ll get to snow this side of Christmas. Hum Bawbag!
Awesome. When does he get the key to the door?
He does more washing up than my 12 and 14 year olds combined… so my guess is sometime before them…
😉