It is official, ‘lazy days’ are more exhausting that ‘busy’ ones.
The kids get stir crazy so easily, so we decided to venture out for lunch at 12:00 then find a local playground to let them burn off energy.
While so doing, Jo got an email from the lovely Gigi (the previously mentioned DSC) that she could meet us at the local mall at 16:00 at Bank of America to sort out a joint bank account (I can’t get my own yet).
So in the quest for financial independence (well not really, but it’s how the hus-creature framed it to get me out of the house for a second time in one day when I’m feeling rough as a bear’s behind) off we went again.
The bank staff were lovely, and gave both children a sucker (lollipop). It’s not something we’ve let the Tiny Tyrant have before, but she saw her brother get one and her eyes lit up and went ‘ahhhhh Ammy, MINE’ so given we were there to supervise we chose to let her have it. She got the sour apple one, so I fully expected her to throw it on the floor in disgust.
Much delighting ‘nyum nyum nyum’-ing
Yes, she tangled it in her hair, and then dropped it on the floor, but she had a whale of a time with it before I was forced to dispose of the floor food.
So we are now the proud owners of a USA checking and separate savings account. I would be lying if I said that relying purely on the hus-creature for finances makes me comfortable, but I am still making a vital contribution to the family unit, and I get to watch the kidlets grow up , at least for the next few months.
I still want to earn my own money somehow, but I have time to think about what I want to do, rather than simply leaping blindly at the first office job that comes along.
As it took a while to finish the banking process, we decided to take the kids out for dinner. We thought we’d try The Cheesecake Factory again – but in a two-for-two, neither child ate properly.
BUT #1 Son ate an entire slice of pepperoni pizza, even though he didn’t like it, because that was the deal to earn dessert.
We grownups did not eat, but ordered a cocktail apiece and a slice of cheesecake when the kids had pudding. I spent most of the meal stopping the Tiny Tyrant from harassing people in the booth behind us, and telling her to stop throwing pizza at me… the joys of parenting.
It was yet another day where she waved, cooed and ‘hiya’d’ at every person she could. I am going to need to have a serious ‘Stranger Danger’ talk with this child before too long… and she is going to be trouble when she’s a teenager…
On the way home I heard her shout a random babble-word that I know means ‘hey, adults with me, I have seen a dog‘ so I looked around and saw a very pretty, heavily brindled, heavy set dog on a walking muzzle (important).
I went into my usual spiel about how we don’t approach or pet a dog without asking their mummy/daddy. The owner then commented that in his particular experience, it’s adults that tend to come running up and petting the dog. I asked about the muzzle not being a hint, and that’s when he told me the dog was half dingo.
Which very much explained why it looked somewhat odd. I mean, it was gorgeous, but yeah, not to be messed with. However when we walked past the close-by local dog park there were a couple of very yappy Pomeranian things that were clearly spoiling for a fight, and all the half-dingo pupper did was start gnawing and yanking on their lead very close to their owner.
Tiny Tyrant was much more bothered by the yapping – seems her dog fear is triggered more by noise than proximity!