Oh lordy, what a trauma we’ve had this morning. We’d been to play with a few of Finleys little friends and got back just in time for lunch. While I went into the kitchen to cook it, I switched on CBeebies (BBC for the under fives) for Finn. All was well and good. Balamory, Finleys favorite programme was on and he was quite happy cosied up on the sofa with a glass of juice.
And then all hell broke loose. Finley was screaming like he’d been stabbed, alternatively bashing the tv and bashing the baby gate to try and claw his way up stairs. All the time, screaming "The man!, the man!!"…
Well I didn’t know what to think: for a moment I thought we had an intruder and considered looking under the furniture to see where he was hiding, but then I noticed a man putting clown make up on, on Balamory and while I’ve never really got the whole scary clown thing myself it struck me that this was it. So I scooped Finn up and walked towards the Tv, where the clown, now in f ull make up, grinned back at us.
Next thing Finley is half way up the stairs, into my bedroom and wailing like a banshee. Now this is most unusual and I didn’t know what to do. He’s now telling me that the man is on the walls and the ceiling, and in an effort to get away, scooted under the
So we lay there. And we lay there. And we lay there. Dinnertime came and went and he wouldn’t go downstairs because the "man" was there. Though he looked like he was asleep, he wasn’t (See how he’s got one beady eye open, in case I try to escape?),he had an iron grip on my arm and every time I tried to stand up, hysteria ensued…
And so here we are. Two hours later he has finally dropped off, and now lies looking angelic on the bed next to me. My doctors appointment has come and gone and it doesn’t look like we’ll be meeting my friend Diane for afternoon
Life may now have to be lived within the confines of this bedroom and any clowns planning on coming for lunch will be given extremely short shrift…
Let’s hope the circus isn’t coming to town.
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