Gosh it's February already and I am way behind updating my blog. I meant to write just after Christmas then things happened and I never found the time to get stuck in! Time just seems to slip by so quickly and more so when you get older! Still here I am and I would like to wish you all a very belated happy New Year. That said, I will turn 75 this year and... um... well I just cannot find the answer as to where all the last 74 years have gone! Still I am blessed that I am still here to tell the tale (have I mentioned this before somewhere in this blog...). And, I have my darling grandsons who light up my life big time. Talking about grandsons, my son rang me this morning still full of cold which he developed over the past few days, and he sounded dreadful. His wife works weekends so he has the job of looking after their four sons. When I left him yesterday afternoon after he returned home from work, he looked under the weather....
Mission: Toothbrush Impossible
Let’s talk about my grandson George — a nearly seven-year-old with an imagination so wild it could power a spaceship! George doesn’t just play pretend; he lives it. Zombies lurking in shadows? He spots them before anyone else. Ghostbusters? He’s got the gear. Army adventures? Full camo, helmet secured, and toy rifle locked and loaded.
One morning, George’s dad asked the usual: “Time to brush your teeth!” But George was already mid-operation — suited up in full battle gear, eyes sharp, ready for combat. His response?
“I can’t brush my teeth right now, Dad. I’m going into a dangerous place.”
Classic George. But don’t worry, he did promise to brush when he returned from duty.
I still remember his dad giving the world’s most epic eye roll and muttering, “Okay, George… in your own time. But I want to see those teeth when you’re back!”
Let’s just say, Dad has a high tolerance for chaos — and a low threshold for “toothbrush negotiations.” Sometimes he gets a little... exasperated. (Or as George might say, “exstarbarated.”)
Zombie Alert at the Dentist!
Ah, George. A few years ago, during the height of his Zombie Era, he had his very first dental appointment. Picture this: Mum wrangling all four boys into the waiting room for their six-month checkups — already a heroic feat in itself.
The room was dead silent—that classic dentist's office hush where even your thoughts echo. George, ever the vigilant zombie scout, started scanning the room like a tiny secret agent on high alert.
His mum, keeping a close eye on him, noticed his serious expression.
Then, with a very calm tone, George said:
"There are zombies in this room… and I left my hand grenades at home."
Needless to say, every head in the room turned. His mum’s face went from regular mum-mode to tomato red in about 0.3 seconds. She swears she could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as the room tried not to giggle.
Just another day in the life of George, Zombie Hunter — keeping the world safe… one dental check-up at a time.
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