As you may have gathered from our past few posts, we are away on holiday, and by this we mean that we are in our respective home countries, doing all the frantic muttering, child-chasing, and butt-wiping that we did back in Singapore, MINUS our helpers and husbands. So, pretty much not on holiday at all. (Note to selves: Maldives next summer.) To be fair, we are both a lot less sweaty, which actually counts for a lot, and our hair looks amazing.
BUT, we are on opposite sides of the world with little time zone overlap, so our usually-delightful text conversations have dissolved into exchanges like, “Hello? S***! You’re sleeping! Never mind,” and “For the love of God STOP TEXTING ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.”
So. For the next week or so, we are diving deep, deep, into the Textpat Wife Vault, to bring you some oldies that we never shared. On that note, here’s one A never wanted to share because she found it slightly humiliating, and because the whole episode has already become family legend, which her children delight in recalling, referring to it only as “the chili incident.”