we love short shorts

herself is decidedly grumpy in the mornings at the moment. this is because himself and my boy are on holiday and she has to go to work. so she sets them a list of tasks each day to make sure they don't enjoy themselves too much. if they are left to their own devices they sit in my boy's room in the dark playing computer games. if herself happens to come home early and catch them at this before they have picked up hoovers and brooms to pretend they are doing housework, they are soundly berated. "you are a pair of trolls!" she says. i have to say this is accurate. from what i understand of trolls they live under bridges or in caves in the dark and grunt whenever anyone approaches. when herself is describing the activities of the trolls to mrs prof in an e-mail she differentiates them by referring to himself as "big troll" or bt, and my boy as "little troll" or lt.

today's task was to take my boy to have his feet measured and get him some new shoes. this used to be something of a nightmare. my boy would not let the shoe shop person near his feet to measure them. beefburger people have very sensitive feet. there would follow negotiations that would put the united nations to shame. "you can have some bribery" herself would say in desperation, while the shoe shop person would look on thinking my boy was badly brought up and just needed a sound thrashing rather than simply being a beefburger person. "how much?" my boy would ask. "a mars bar" herself would venture. "can i have one for each foot?" my boy would counter.

these days it is a bit easier but my boy still manages to extract some benefit for having new shoes. you would think not having sore toes would be enough but what do i know? i only have paws. today my boy said "can i have some shorts?" he has grown considerably since the last shorts were purchased so this was not entirely unreasonable. himself and my boy ventured into millets, which for my overseas readers', or perhaps reader's, benefit i must explain is a shop which sells tents and shorts, among other things.

they could not find shorts. "you will have to ask someone" said my boy. "i'm not doing that!" said himself, exhibiting a very trolly streak. "conquer your fear!" said my boy, loudly. the assistant, who was nearby looked round at them. needless to say himself did not conquer his fear. back out in the street my boy remonstrated, loudly. "you just want to be back home in the dark playing computer games!" he squawked. quite a few people looked round. himself hates being looked at. it is a feature of trolls. he hustled my boy home, still muttering.

so why the picture? well, from this you can see that my boy is genetically pre-disposed to short-wearing. himself wears shorts in the most inappropriate situations. once when shopping in november herself refused to walk round with him unless he hid his shorts behind the trolley. herself says this is because himself is also a beefburger person. i must say i have my suspicions....