NO PIZZA FOR YOU!

Today I got paid for eating Domino’s Pizza and watching The Amazing Spider-man.

Jimmy came in in a foul mood and refused to do any work all morning (and it’s end of term, so for ‘work’, read maths games/colouring in/gentle, undemanding, semi-educational activities punctuated by treats and end of term reward events. Like DVDs. Or pizza).

To try and help him recover his day and get out of his foul mood, I tried to persuade him to come and choose his pizza toppings.

“Don’t want stupid pizza. It’s boring!”  (He’s been talking about nothing else for days)

“You’ll be sad if you miss having pizza.”  (He will)

“I hate pizza. It’s boring.”  (It’s not. It’s his favourite thing in the world)

“Well, you need to make a good choice now if you want pizza.” (He does)

“Don’t care. Don’t care. Don’t care. DON'T CARE. DON'T CARE!”  (He blatantly does)

“Okay then. I’ll have to order you a school dinner...”  (I do)

Time Passes.

Our pizzas arrive. Staff and students. It’s a pizza party and the mood is euphoric. Every pizza is labelled with the appropriate pupil’s name. They locate and collect their pizza and take it to their seat.

“Where’s my pizza?”

“You didn’t want one, remember? You said pizza is boring and you hate pizza, then you started shouting at me.”

“I was only joking. Can I have my pizza now?”

“There is no pizza for you.  I didn’t order one for you because you didn’t make good choices.”

“But I want it now.”

“It’s too late now. You need to be good when I say, otherwise you don’t get nice things.”

Jimmy sulks and refuses to eat his school dinner, which- to be fair- looks questionable, though he’ll literally eat anything. I saw him try to eat a shoe once. If I’m honest, he could stand to skip a meal or two, so I let him sulk and refuse to eat.

Perhaps meanly, I also make a point of saying to everyone as we eat our pizzas:
“Is everyone enjoying their pizza? Good!  Well done- you all made GOOD CHOICES so we get to have a pizza party. Mmm- delicious pizza!  Mmmmm!”

But we have to do that to make sure he connects the dots.

He totally does.

After about 20 minutes, once his school dinner is nice and cold and the baked beans are all disgusting and congealed, he sits down and starts sheepishly eating it.

It doesn't look very nice.

Maybe next time he won’t be such a little bitch about it...

Holidays

I love holidays. Holidays are awesome. I’ve just been on holiday. And it was awesome.

But there’s something pretty wonderful about not being on holiday too. After 5 days I was totally ready to go home. Don’t get me wrong – I had a great time, and I didn’t *want*to come home – but I was well ready to go home. I wasn’t sad.

7 days subsisting purely on Pringles and vodka really does me no favours at all. After 5 days, my body was screaming at me to stop drinking, eat normal food and stay in, have an early night and read a book. All I want is beans on toast.

 

It’s funny though- you could just take it easy whilst you’re away.  But it NEVER HAPPENS. You’ve paid all that money to stay somewhere exciting, where you can go nuts, drink like a fish and dress like a whore... so staying in your hotel for the evening, watching weird Euro TV just seems such a waste.

So we push our luck. Every night. Then feel horrible all day, every day, and struggle to crawl to the beach to lie in the unforgiving sun for the rest of the afternoon.

But here’s the thing. I like to go home because actually, my holiday routine and my home routine aren’t actually that different. I go and sit on the beach, I go out for scrummy dinners, I drink cocktails, then I go and have dirty drinks in some dirty gay bar, then maybe end up dancing in a binty outfit. It’s not that different at all. 

I’m never sad about going home because I like my life at home. It’s pretty much identical to my life on holiday. I kind of feel like some people go on holiday, then HATE coming home because they’re actually not that happy with their normal, day-to-day life.  

But yeah- it’s pretty much identical. With the exception that when I’m home, I can do all the same things, but have a night off and sit on the sofa watching Ru Paul’s Drag Race and eating pasta without feeling like I’m wasting my money.

Long live pasta.