Saturday, 5 July 2008

Happy homecoming

Here we are driving home. And this is the smile in the car, about half-way. Remember that, Grit.

Because from then on, things went downhill. Fast. Even with a stop at Chedworth Roman villa. Which, on reflection, probably started it all, when the lady dressed as a Roman asked Tiger a question. Squirrel casually supplied the answer and Tiger didn't say anything at all. Just growled.

With two hours to go, we can certainly say we no longer have triplets in the car. No. We have a three headed monster from tripletland. It has one body with six arms and three heads. And when one of those heads speaks, then this means that your siblings are stealing your identity, ripping the face off your body, trampling on your desires, ambitions and aspirations, controlling your life forever and ever and ever, and worse, yes, worst of all, it happens when you are asked a question, and your sister ANSWERS FOR YOU. This is the worst thing ever to happen, and it happens again like this, when you are asked 'Do you want a Carr's cheese melt, Tiger?' and Squirrel pips up with, 'I do! I do!'

Oh wow. Has that moment transgressed once more the unwritten law of triplet individuality. Now one of the heads of the three headed monster has had her independent answer just ripped out of her mouth and mangled up and torn up right in front of her. So this means you have to jump out of your seat, grab your sister's head with both hands and ram it face down into her lap so that her brain is dented forever and she will never eat a Carr's cheese melt ever again in her life and that serves her right. Then the other head of the three headed monster starts screaming and screaming so that anyone unfamiliar with triplet life thinks we must surely be extracting a kidney from her on the M5 at 80 miles an hour without anaesthetic, when all mamma wanted to do was offer a Carr's cheese melt for God's sake and now look. Daddy Dig is shouting, mummy Grit is shouting, the car is swerving about and the three headed monster is screaming and yelling and kicking and throwing punches and kicking seats and the Carr's cheese melts are all thrown everywhere.

Is this the moment the mamma of the three headed monster needs to shout, 'I am never ever travelling anywhere with you three, ever ever EVER AGAIN! And this time I MEAN IT!'


Brad said...

I think for your next car you should opt for an old police car with those handy dividers between the front and back.

Grit said...

what a totally excellent idea. london taxis have those too. we could shut the windows. people would flag us down, which would be the only problem. and with a police car we'd have to attend crime scenes. hmm. i see a future.

sharon said...

No, I think 3 individual trailers towed behind the Gritmobile is the way to go. Have to say this type of behaviour is not restricted to triplets though, restraints and gags anybody?