Biff Chip and Kipper and the Glass of Wine

This is Mum.

Mum has had one of those days where, frankly, she does not know what ever possessed her to merrily hurl her contraceptive pill down the toilet and let Dad anywhere near her with his swollen appendage in order for them to breed.

Since 6am this morning, Mum has been dragged into a continuous serious of neverending debates over whether Chip got more cereal than Biff; whether it was Kipper’s turn to unload the dishwasher or whether Biff and Chip were just tricking him into unloading the dishwasher because he was the youngest; whether it was one of the children who were responsible for the giant turd which mysteriously appeared in the downstairs toilet, unflushed, and nobody would take responsibility for, or whether it was Dad; whether she was an ‘unreasonable bitch’ for not permitting Chip to play Fortnite for twelve hours straight and instead suggest that they all log off their electronic devices and have some family time together; whether they should get a puppy to keep Floppy the fucking liability company (absolutely fucking not, ever, over Mum’s dead and broken husk of a body); whether Dad could possibly consider not destroying the house entirely with his traditional Bank Holiday DIY efforts (apparently not); and whether she could please pass judgement on the furious accusation that Biff might possibly have poured a millimetre and a half more of lemonade in her glass than she had poured for Chip.

“I do not know what I was thinking, having children,” says Mum to herself.

This is Chip.

Suddenly, Chip appears in front of Mum, where she is hiding in the garden hoping that her family will all think she has left home, or possibly just keeled over and died, and find some other poor sucker to referee their lives instead.

Chip has brought Mum a glass of wine.

“I brought you some wine, Mum,” says Chip. “I thought you might need it.”

Tears spring to Mum’s eyes. Suddenly, Mum understands what other parents mean when they talk about this overwhelming parental love for one’s children.

Mum has never loved Chip more.

Chip asks Mum if this now means he can play Fortnite for twenty-four hours straight, because Chip is not fucking stupid, and brought Mum the wine with precisely this objective in mind.

Happily, Mum tells Chip he can do whatever he fucking wants, just so long as he and his siblings and that absolute fucking liability of a hound leave her in peace.

“THIS is why I had children,” says Mum, drinking her wine.


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