So after a bit of a trying day, I dragged my wounded car home and poured myself a stiff drink.
Because last night, I had to meet The Parents.
I'm never good with these things, I get nervous. And not just boyfriend's parents either, anyone's parents. I also met one of my best guy friend's parents this week. (Can the week get ANY better than this??) My best guy friend's parents are super posh, super colonial, super scary. Granted, his mother is a card, but the whole dinner you are always very aware of how you're holding your cutlery, how you talk and how you sit. Example: And perhaps it's just this generation, and how she's been bought up. The conversation shifted to exclusive game lodges, and the mother goes, in all innocence, "One thing I have noticed about game lodges lately...there are so many gay people there!" We all laughed, because she obviously meant this in a non-derogatory observant way. But we also spoke about the salon her spaniels go to and Elton John's Christmas party (they were invited. Oh yes they were.)
So I figured meeting Small Bum's parents should actually be quite easy, as they seem more laid back.
They were. Thank God. Very normal, sweet, average people really. Small Bum, however isn't average and stated over the table: "(Peas) won't kiss me this week Mum. Because I'm growing my beard." And then promptly slapped me on the ass. Or "(Peas) was helluva naughty at school. Tell them about the time you bunked out, Peas."
The mother told me Small Bum was a lovely little boy, but one ugly baby. And when we left, "Look after my baby this weekend." (While we're camping.) Yikes. That spells future trouble.
Then in the car, he turned his newly-bearded face to me and said, "Yip they like you."
PS: He won't budge over the beard. He's growing it for a party we having while camping. I hate beards, ok, I just do. So to make my point, I refuse to engage in sexual activity until it comes off.