Mr TBT was away for Valentines Day, so on a recent trip home we decided to play catch up!
Oh, Symphony Under the Stars is on. Perfect! Only dragging 4 kids under 7 out waaaay past their bedtime somehow didn't feel so perfect.
Maybe we could hear it from our house! We'll get some scrumdiddlumptioushness from Alps & Amici and sit outside and have a romantic picnic and listen to Symphony Under the Stars. Perfect.
Only it was cold. Too cold to sit outside for me (it got below 10 degrees ok! And yes, it is February). We'll sit inside. Oh. We can't hear the music. That's ok. It'll be nice to have some quiet.
Then the snot hit. Like an avalanche. All 4 of them within 5 minutes of each other.
"Waaaahhh". One needs ventolin. Quiet. Where were we? Marinated mushrooms.
"Muuum. George is coughing". Another needs ventolin. Right where were we? Oh yes, the smoked salmon terrine. "Muuuum. I need the toilet. Ooooh what are you eating? Can I have some. Oooh. No fair".
"Muuuum. I need to blow my nose, oooh that looks sooo yummy. Why do you get something special?" (At which point I had to hold myself back from giving a long winded explanation of the commercialisation of Valentines Day).
"Waaaah" Temperature. Panadol required.
"Waaah." More ventolin. Quiet. For a bit. Enough time to scoff some artichoke hearts and snaffle some white bean and almond dip.
"Muuuum. I need to blow my nose and go to the toilet."
Finally. Quiet. Sicilian olives. Sopressa. French cheese. Romance. Snot. It hit me too.
"I'll just curl up on the couch" I tell Mr TBT. I pass out in a feverish sleep for a good hour and wake up to find I've dribbled on my favourite cushion.
"C'mon." Says Mr TBT. "Go to bed. Ill fix up the kitchen and come and tuck you in". Ahh. This is what true love really looks like.