Flea

I was sorting laundry in my bedroom this afternoon when Flea called to me from her bedroom.

“Mummy! Guess what I just did. It’s really funny.”  

“Go on, what?”  

“Oh, hang on…am I allowed to write on doors?”  

“No, definitely not.”

“Okay. Never mind.”

There’s a pause.

“Mummy?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know where my special rubber is?”


I sense an attempted cover-up may be in the works.