As told earlier, we have recently bought a new apartment. Usually, in Sweden, you sell your living space first, then you buy something new. We found the perfect place for us and bought it – without selling our tiny castle first.
The panic was total. In just a three weeks we would need to renovate, freshen the place up, fix everything we’ve ment to fix in the last 5 years, get a real estate agent and – mostly important – get it sold for the price we want.
We’ve worked hard. 24/7 more or less. Both Shaun Vegaun and I have full time jobs, we have Igge to take care of, we’re fixing the apartment up from pretty worn out to tip top shape and it all needs to be done before we go to Japan. Oh yes, because we’re going to Japan. We went a few days agi, actually.
So, the showing of the place will be when we’re away, which means that our apartment needed to be flashing clean and decorated to fit a 20-something careerist at the latest this morning. We woke up, had breakfast, then started cleaning the very last bits and pieces. I was cleaning the kitchen, actually cleaning the stove with a toothbrush, when I hear Igge in the living room, go “Mmmm. Mmmmm! Sooooklaaaa, Mmmmm. ”

Pre-chocolate stains

Sokla? SOKLA?! My heart started racing, I could feel the sweat breaking my forehead and for a millisecond I thought I was gonna throw up. I turned around, toothbrush in one hand and kitchen spray in the other, not afraid to use either on The Child, if he was eating chocolate. He was. I became a volcano. Whilst cleaning the kitchen I had moved my easter egg from a high shelf to the kitchen table. Igge also had an eater egg, but he ate that when we celebrated early Easter last Saturday. So he saw mine and assumed it was up for grabs. While I was busy trying to clean the buttons on the stove, my own Mr. Gloop had gotten through one Cadbury egg, one chocolate bar and was currently working on one piece of liquorice fudge. When he eats candy, he stuffs as much as he can in his mouth at once. This is to make sure he gets as much as possible in there before an adult sees him and makes him spit it out. To be able to do it that way, he needs to use both hands to restrain the sweeties inside his mouth, and you can just guess how fresh his hands are after an action like that. My clean buttons on the stove suddenly seemed unnecessary and pathetic compared to the handprint in chocolate on the white TV bench or the half chewed liquorice fudge embedded in the new, white, fluffy sofa – cussion.

How do you solve this with 15 minutes to go before the taxi to the airport gets there? You carry the child to the shower, you get the jar of white paint and you turn the cussion around.
Problem solved, now let’s sell the place and go to Japan!

We’re off for a real family adventure

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