Handcuffed

Having only lived here for two years, I figured it might finally be time to empty those last few boxes from the garage.

I have already talked about the aesthetic nature of Miss-middle but it should be noted that she is also something of a magpie, thus hoards all types of treasures on the basis that they look quite pretty.

So at the bottom of the last box, in the midst of single earrings, paperclips, odd screws and other unwanted trinkets she spotted a pair of ornate keys bound with a red ribbon. I had come across them earlier in the box, but had passed them over in favour of bigger, more useful things and was planning to just tip the remaining contents directly into the bin. Daughter knows me, though and anticipating my next action thrust her hand in the box grabbing up all the shiny objects in one swoop.

“Wow!” says she “these are pretty! What do they open?”

I had no idea, but assumed maybe a jewellery box or something judging by the size and how decorative they were. I told her she could have them and she duly attached them to her phone with the rest of her prettiest possessions.

Slightly embarrassing, then, to climb the stairs later and overhear a conversation between daughter and the hub-creature starting with:
“What are you doing with handcuff keys?”

This chat in the presence of all three children; one fully understanding the connotations, one getting the gist but too embarrassed to let on, the other far to young to understand anything; least of all the need to not discuss it outside the family unit.

So the next day imagine my further embarrassment on hearing baby telling her friends her mummy must have been arrested once because the police had given her handcuff keys!

Losing credibility daily as a mum now: whenever I berate Miss-middle for anything, she points out “Well at least I wouldn’t give a child a set of keys from sexy handcuffs”; the oldest expressed curiosity at firstly where are the handcuffs and secondly how could I not remember owning any and baby still thinks I have a secret past as a master criminal no matter how strongly I protest otherwise!



Lesson for the day: When life draws a halt to your sexual activities through whatever circumstances, remove all evidence whilst you still remember its purpose.



Media? Not especially relevant (although slightly!) the amazing David Bowie singing "Reptile" with Nine Inch Nails