by JO ABI
OMG I am in stitches.
I rang my husband to ask for his new email address. You’ll never believe what it is. Actually, I probably shouldn’t write it here because he’ll probably receive a few unsolicited emails but basically it reads…
Did you see the numbers he chose? 007. Seriously?
Why does every man want to be Bond, James Bond. It’s adorable, don’t get me wrong but I can’t help but think of my eight-year-old son and his friends who all want to be Spiderman.
Look, I understand to a degree. I wanted to be Wonder Woman when I was little but gee whiz, I seem to be all grown up now and subsequently have moved on from that particular fantasy. My fantasies these days involve me being some sort of superhero mum. I dream of an immaculately clean house, well-dressed children, a comprehensive schedule of activities that we never miss and are never late for, a brilliant yummy mummy wardrobe and endless amounts of energy. Oh, and a youthful appearance, long flowing hair and no bits of food stuck to my clothes. (Why does that always happen?)
But back to my husband. He’s shown signs of wanting to be a bit of a superhero before. Looking back I can see that the first sign occurred shortly after we moved in together and started watching Survivor Australian Outback together.