It was so not funny. There I would be, ass up on the sidewalk going though a nature strip peppered with dog shit. It was these types of reasons that we always had brightly coloured hearing aids, not the transparent ones.
To deter him from pulling them out, we resorted to sticking some gauze over them, which helped a little.
I can put hearing aids in blindfolded. I tried to work it out how many times I have put them in. 6 years. at least 3 times a day AT LEAST. Cannot do the maths, but I suspect it is a lot of hearing aid putting in.
This week, Jack's Hearing Support Teacher issued a challenge, telling him that as soon as he has learnt to put his hearing aids in by himself, he could make his selection from an array of her "prizes."
She told me that the prizes were just crap from the $2 shop, but the kids seemed to go ape shit for that stuff.
Last night, after an hour in the bathroom, he came out and demonstrated how he could now put both in. By himself.
That, my friends, was a moment.
Later I got a call from Mum who is continuing her schoolies revival week with her mates up at Jabba the Hut. She was rather hysterical with laughter and went on to tell me a tale, which you might enjoy or at the very least, make your sphincter quiver.
Aunty Lois had been raving on about the wet wipes that I keep above the toilet. She had told Mum that these wipes were fantastic to make sure that nothing was missed and all areas involved in the expulsion of bodily fluids and solids remained as fresh as the day.
Later Mum went to use the latrine, and remembering Aunty Lois's infomercials, decided to check out these wonderful wipes.
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| THERE IS NO SOAP SCUM ON AUNTY LOIS'S BUM! |
And that is how you put a lovely yarn and a questionable one together into one post.
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