anarchy

in my imagination our well dressed family eat polite meals together and talk about cultured things like flowers and poems.

reality looks a bit different as my scuzzy children drip salad dressing over magazines, create bread/cup art, dip their hair in the pasta and have holey, filthy clothes.

and I take photos of it and post it online for the world to see. I think my imagination needs up-dating, I appear to be running on a really old version. The one that said I would never shout at my kids (or even call them kids) and wouldn't let them use plastic plates or swear. And on that hilarious note, here's some reggae to make you happy.