It’s the weekend and a reasonably warn day.
The Unsung Mum has decided that the family are going to have a barbecue for dinner because that and getting burnt like a lobster is what traditional British families like to do.
The Kid and The Baby have been playing in the paddling pool, and also on the far to big red slide that The Hub thought was a decent buy off Facebay in till he tried to get the shitting thing in the car. Thinking it would give him an extra five minutes of peace, The Hub moved said fuck off slide into the pool.
After The Unsung Mum mopped up one grazed knee and a nose bleed, and conquered the manic screaming with chocolate buttons, she confiscated the fuck off slide and glared at The Hub, calling him a fucking dick under her breath.
The Hub seized this chance to pull up a sun lounger and check the BBC sports app for the 100th time that morning. The Hub has his eyes glued to his phone so he can pretend not to notice The Kid pulling off the sunflower petals or The Baby sucking stones.
The Hub is not really reading the BBC sport app though; he’s thinking about the conversion last week that he had with The Unsung Mum about using the word barbeque to mean sex. He’s pissed that the use of the damn word today does mean what it means, not what they ‘agreed’ it would mean.
Both youngsters are still in the paddling pool.
The Kid is screaming something about The Baby pulling her nappy off and crapping in the pool, and The Baby is trying to grab it and use it as shampoo for her hair.
Adrift in his dreams of actually fucking his wife more than once a month and what their life could have been like if the condom hadn’t split or if he hadn’t drunk ten pints after a rare night with the lads, The Hub hears nothing.
The Unsung Mum is not outside in the sunshine.
The Unsung Mum is in the kitchen, on her phone, catching up on Masterchef with one eye on some beige food in the oven.
The Unsung Mum is vaguely aware of the high-pitched noise, but it’s not the ‘I’m dying’ scream, so she disregards it, and hopes to hell The Hub will intervene in a second.
The Hub lights the barbecue and re-looks at his phone until the barbecue is ready to cook on, while muttering about non-sleeping kids and long periods, aka, he misses sex and can’t work out why he isn’t getting any.
The Kid has got out of the paddling pool, comes in, trails water through the house, all in the name of Swashbucklers while her butt naked sister proceeds to prance around the living room soaking wet screaming for tatta tig at the top of her lungs, and The Unsung Mum has decided that 11am isn’t to early to eat cake.
Now the barbecue is hot, The Baby has decided that the pool and the fuck off slide are boring and that playing with real life fire is the bomb.
The Unsung Mum plows a full cake into her mouth.
The Hub is cooking on the barbecue now.
Cooking on the barbecue is a very complicated and problematic task, therefore it is imperative that The Hub does not step away from the barbecue for one millisecond, lest one of his offspring’s limbs full off and they die of the plague.
While The Hub watches over the fire, he asks cannily if there would be any ‘barbecuing’ tonight, wink wink.
He implies, using safe words of course and thrusting actions, that he is but a man who needs a good seeing too.
The Unsung Mum thinks it’s pretty fucking amazing that he gets any action at all, considering that she gets up throughout the night to see to The Baby then again at 530am every single day because The Kid can’t read the sodding Gro Clock, and does all this without being a gigantic dick.
The Unsung Mum signs for him to shut the hell up before The Kid hears. He doesn’t.
The Unsung Mum rolls her eyes and tells The Hub to stop pissing about and cook the food. She’s hungry and wants The Baby down for a nap soon so she can continue Masterchef in peace.
The food is cooked.
The Kid and The Baby don’t like the food. Words like “it’s pissgusting and gross” come out of their lips.
The Unsung Mum shrugs and gives them pre-cooked fish fingers, waffles and beans again. Anything for a quiet life.
The Hub says “Did you enjoy having a night off cooking, babe? I’m quite tired now, maybe we should have an early night?” Another fucking wink. She ignores the twat.
The Kid has now stripped off to do a piss next to the potty while The Baby thrusts uncontrollably at the bedroom mirror.
The Hub laughs and shuts himself in the bathroom to take a well timed half an hour crap.
Both brats have gone to bed.
The Unsung Mum is rocking in the corner with her empty cake wrapper, hoping The Hub will just fuck off and leave her in her happy place.
The Hub now wants sex.
The Unsung Mum kicks him in the nuts.