Baby, come back...

Now that Christmas is looming, the children are heading back to the homestead in various shape and form.  

Daughter number one, who has been living away from home for some years now, really only comes home to visit.  This visit will always involve food and if Prosecco is involved, will also include a sleepover.  If daughter number two's bedroom can't be high jacked for this purpose, then yours truly will spend half an hour removing all the crap off daughter number one's bed so that she can get in it.  

This is the problem when you have a ground floor bedroom situated between the kitchen and the front door.  It rapidly becomes a dumping ground, and as I write it's housing all of the husband's biking paraphernalia, winter clothing accessories (my scarf box was decimated by Reg one afternoon, so my scarves now languish across the bed) and shoes....lots of shoes.  I have daughters, what do you expect.

Daughter number two moved out fourteen months ago, and still clings onto her home and bedroom (even though the dogs now live in there).  When she arrives, it's usually for a few days, and it's like she's never been away.  By this, I mean that there will be at least three empty shampoo/conditioner/moisturizer/shower gel bottles scattered across the bathroom.  The carpet will look like a depressed Afghan hound has been in residence (she has hair extensions) and there's usually some stray underwear knocking about.  She's in and out like a whirlwind, generally leaving a couple of pairs of drawers behind as a rule.

Son number one is flitting between houses at the moment, as befitting someone who has just left university.  Student-hood seems rather difficult to leave behind.  When he visits, it's usually just for food and washing.  He's planning on moving into his own place next year, so I would imagine that his visits will start to resemble daughter number one's, but without the hair extensions.

Son number two returned from university on Saturday.  He surprised me as I wasn't expecting him till next week.  Unfortunately I was out - this will teach him to call ahead.  Does he not realise that my life is no longer governed by him and the other three?  Anyway, he's back with almost every piece of clothing he has owned since 2012 and my washing machine is on 25gm of Valium per day.  

Here's the thing though.  He waits for me to come home after work, and then expects me to take him somewhere for the afternoon.  On Wednesday, I made the mistake of asking him if he wanted to come into town with me as I had something to take back to a shop.

I should have known that it was going to cost me, when he agreed.  He played the poverty stricken student all the way round, and fleeced me for razors and chocolate.  There was then a lunch in Greggs as he was 'starving'.  This turned into a three course meal and I'm sure that the Manager was just about to offer the meal for free if son number two had managed to force down the second chicken pie.  All in all, it cost me about £50 to have him riding shotgun.  Just as we were heading back to the car, he had the audacity to tell me that he'd got £67.50 as a trade in for his old mobile.

Ah yes, the mobile.  That would be the one I have been paying £35 a month for since 2015...

Saying to him that surely that money was mine as I had paid for it (and the new one he's just got) he looked at me quite thoughtfully.

Handing me £7.50 in loose change, he said, 'Knock yourself out Mumpty and buy yourself an ice cream'.

Does he not realise that this Mumpty Numpty is in sole charge of his Christmas presents? I have a feeling that I may be returning even more parcels back to the shops over the next few days.

And this time, I'll be leaving him at home...