My youngest is a craftaholic. She makes things out of anything that is motionless. Plus the dog. It doesn't impress him. Anyway, yesterday morning she thought it would be fabulous to do some crafting with a chilli pepper while I was upstairs getting myself ready to take her to school.
She'd stuck sticks in it, put diamonds on it, even drawn a face! There was no denying it, it was a very beautiful chilli pepper.
Beautiful, that is, until it bit back.
She'd stuck sticks in it, put diamonds on it, even drawn a face! There was no denying it, it was a very beautiful chilli pepper.
Beautiful, that is, until it bit back.
![Picture](/uploads/8/0/8/4/80845538/1047449.png?1466261419)
Lordy, it was pandemonium. Each time she touched the next bit of her face, the screaming got louder. I, of course, had no idea why she was wailing like a stuck pig. I ran downstairs, uselessly yelling, “What is it? What’s the matter?". It took me a good few minutes to realise the source.
"Shit. Fricking chilli? You have been piercing fricking chillis?!” Of course, her face told me that this was not the correct reaction. Instantly, I went into ‘calm Mummy mode’, reserved for such situations. OK. Chilli. No biggy. “Come on...you….little….monkey…"
I washed her hands, her eyes, her face….to no avail. Google!! Help!! Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…..don’t fail me now, my friend….Milk, was the answer. Dab it on, it says, neutralise the burn. So, naturally, I smothered her in the stuff.
By the time I’d finished, you could have popped her in the oven and enjoyed a lovely milk pudding.
And do you know how she repaid me? “Fack you, Mama”
Alrighty then.
"Shit. Fricking chilli? You have been piercing fricking chillis?!” Of course, her face told me that this was not the correct reaction. Instantly, I went into ‘calm Mummy mode’, reserved for such situations. OK. Chilli. No biggy. “Come on...you….little….monkey…"
I washed her hands, her eyes, her face….to no avail. Google!! Help!! Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…..don’t fail me now, my friend….Milk, was the answer. Dab it on, it says, neutralise the burn. So, naturally, I smothered her in the stuff.
By the time I’d finished, you could have popped her in the oven and enjoyed a lovely milk pudding.
And do you know how she repaid me? “Fack you, Mama”
Alrighty then.