Oh, Birchbox! You are NAUGHTY. You send me an email, offering me The World, when you know that I live in a shed, and a bit of glamour is very enticing indeed.
OK, so you probably don’t know about The Shed. And neither do you care. What is it to you if my make-up mirror lives on the fridge and is covered in dust? Or that I have lipsticks in my possession that pre-date the invention of the iPhone? Despite the fact that I knew you were simply after my money when you emailed me with a 2-for-1 offer, dear Birchbox, I succumbed.
So, yesterday, three Birchbox boxes arrived all together, in a bumper delivery of surprise loveliness, and I was just about to open them all up when I realised that this was our chance – an opportunity not to be missed. Yes, you guessed it. The Four Little Seymours have joined the masses, and we are now, dear reader, YOUTUBERS!
The Birchbox delivery was actually quite a fun excercise. An activity, no less. Worth every penny, I’d say. Because, for approximately twenty minutes, The Four Little Seymours were together, interacting relatively harmoniously, and learning some ICT. Or whatever it’s called nowadays. I can add Birchbox Opening to the list of THINGS WOT WE HAVE DONE so far this summer.
We have been quite busy, actually. In a lovely, non-pressured kind of way. The arguing has abated rather a lot, and Number One has even finished reading five whole actual books! This makes me inordinately happy.
On Tuesday, as we sat around our table, I could not help but chuckle with pride and disgust as my children made up their own song. Mini Seymour sang some lyrics as she has inexplicably heard them, to the tune of the fabulous new number by The Script. Instead of “…all it does is rain”, she applied the words “penis disease”.
?
She is bizarre. But my visiting mother, Grandma E, has obviously forgotten that small children sing random things that sound like something, but may, in fact, be another thing entirely, and by the time my mum had asked Mini Seymour why she was singing about penis disease, the damage was done. We were hysterical and the song was re-written, at least in our house (shed) for ever. Despite my mother’s vain attempts to dilute the fast-setting lyrical synapses in all our brains by mashing it up with “My Grandfather’s Clock” in a surprisingly catchy (and distinctly odd) medley, sorry Danny O’D, but your song “Rain” has been re-christened.
Then, on Wednesday, funnily enough, it rained. All day. I rather like the rain, but it did hammer home that the confines of The Shed are limiting… Luckily, Number One had attempted to erect a two-man tent a few days before, and I suggested we take cushions and pillows and go and sit in there. To my surprise, they agreed! One by one, we crawled though the floppy, soggy tent entrance, past the puddles and discarded bits of tent that didn’t make it into the final structure, and there we sat.
Then, dear lord, they made me play a board game. I hate board games almost as much as I hate bowling. There were four of us (Little Seymour Number Two was out with a friend) ranging in age from four to forty, sitting in a semi-mouldy two-man tent with a sagging roof. Boy Seymour couldn’t understand how Mini Seymour was winning. He was most put out that I helped her, and shouted about it. A lot. The cushions we were sitting on were sodden. There were flies. After forty minutes, large drips started to come through the roof, and the keenness with which the children had started the game dried up. Despite all of that, though, we really enjoyed it! The rain did not keep us cooped up. However, the tent, or what remains of it, is off to the dump tomorrow.
Of course, the total ban on electronics has gone out of the window. I fear, by banning devices, more of an attachment may be formed. Literally. As I took the iPad from my youngest child the other day, she came with it, and I ended up with a child/Apple amalgamation dangling from my arms. It was an iPad Mini alright! So, I am finding myself inclined to allow some “screen time” if a certain amount of reading has been done. Or some writing. Or, in Mini Seymour’s case, some backward hieroglyphs – they’re quite something. Oh! It is so hard trying to find a balance between dead-eyed, anti-social gadget fiends, and overly bookish, unworldly little misfits. I wonder if I will ever know what’s right..?
But I suppose technology is the way forward! And so, we are branching out! We’re going to try our hands at youtubing (is that even a verb?) Little Seymour Number Two, if given the opportunity, would spend days watching other children (and even adults) open Shopkins and Kinder Eggs. She has been itching to start her own channel for ages. And so, I have resurrected my old You Tube account for that purpose. Only, I won’t be buying Shopkins at every opportunity. I shall have to think of something else… I wonder if I wrap up a different coloured pencil from the million in the Random Pencil Box, we can have some cheap thrills guessing what colour it might be? After all, they used to play a similar game in the bath not so long ago (when we had such a thing), during which one of the limited selection of bath toys would be wrapped in a wet flannel, and presented to a sibling to open. The fun they had!
We shall see how the new venture that is youtubing will go. I feel a little like I am selling my soul. But as I have no secrets now anyway (or at least very few), I see no harm in letting you all witness my childish excitement over a small box of cosmetic samples, with unbrushed hair, no make-up on and Four Little Seymours hanging off my person. Not to mention my rather excellent american youtuber accent. Oh yes.
And here it is.
But please note – this is just Part One of the fun. I can’t yet work out how to upload Part 2 – You Tube is complicated.
Part Two is better. I promise.
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