A whole new meaning to the phrase “Big Daddy”.

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Last night we were subjected to this weird swarm of flying termites that pummeled our house. They flew through the bathroom window, and, in the space of about 3 minutes, they had all shed their wings and god knows where they went. Anyway.

The bathroom was suddenly filled with thousands of wings, which we had to sweep up. Apparently its a common thing. Jason swept them up and we moved on.

Fast forward to about 1am. We went bed and, thinking the kids were asleep, well, got some action.

Afterwards, I walked out to the bathroom to — um — clean up — and I hear this little voice.

“Dad did REALLY well didn’t he Mum?”

What the fuck?

“Why, Mina?”

“He cleaned up the moths from the bathroom”.

“Uhh, yes. Go back to sleep.”

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Not a morning person, really.

Don’t talk to me in the morning. Don’t even look at me. I hate getting up at 6am. I hate the fact that going to