Could KILL DH.
DH came home from work for lunch, me and DS (7) at home yesterday (DS was off school, ill) and DH brought home a tube of tennis balls.
He went up to see DS, and gave him the tube of tennis balls, along with the story: What Mummy did when she was young.
(I used to throw a tennis ball up, bounce it off the ceiling, let it drop to the floor and catch it when it bounced back up, until i got bored...)
DH returned to work, smirking, and DS bounced the farking ball for an hour and a half before i confiscated it, with the threat that if he felt that much better, surely he was well enough to go to school. (I'm turning into my mother far too fast for my liking!)
DS went back to bed.
Anyone else wish their children didn't know stories from when mummy and daddy were young?