Father Of 4 Daughters Refuses To Sugarcoat His Instagram Photos, Has A Massive Following Online

Being a dad is a wonderful experience, especially if you have several children. Life in a large family is filled with so much joy. Because kids are witty and enjoy joking around, sometimes, we could find ourselves laughing crazily in our house. However, we can't deny the fact that living in a large family comes with its challenges. Your daily life tends to be more chaotic as your family grows in number of members.
Simon Hooper, a dad of 4 daughters, captures and shares his everyday life with 5 women at home on his Instagram account. And they can't be more realistic and hilarious. We have collected some of the funniest and cutest photos for you. Scroll down and check them out. If you are a parent, we are sure that these pictures will make you feel relatable. What do you think about his life with 4 daughters? Share your thoughts with us in the comments.


In the same way death and taxes are the only real certainty in life, there are a few things you can guarantee when it comes to a family camping trip 1). A child's bed will deflate in the dead of night, meaning you have to swap beds and essentially lie on the cold ground for 4 hours before you're woken by the sun. they wake up fine, you wake up looking for the number of a chiropractor. 2). Despite all the warnings Someone will burn their mouth on a cremated marshmallow whose centre is hotter than the sun 3). All the battery packs will be dead within 24 hours (resulting in you sneaking off to the car to run the battery dead so you can look at weather reports 4). Someone will hear an animal outside the tent at night but no-one will ever see it. 5). Everyone will talk about the weather waaayyy too much 6). No one can actually remember when the kids last washed or brushed their teeth. 7). There will be at least one member of the family that wont have poo'd for the whole time you've been away 8). At some point you'll give in and give the kids a screen because you want to drink warm booze without the constant whining 9). You'll leave will 10% less tent pegs than when you arrived. 10). Remember all that Tetris style neat packing you did when you set off? When you leave, you'll just shove it in the car & just prey the boot doesn't spring open on the main road. 11). You'll leave knackered and yet the kids will ask "when can we next go camping?" almost as soon as they get home. Have I missed any others?

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I know you're not supposed to show your kids crying or upset, but when I came across this whilst scrolling through memories today, it was so real and representative of every walk or outing we ever go on, I just had to share it. Is it just me, or does her twin seem to have a smug look on her face about the whole incident? Leaves me wondering if she tripped on her own or was pushed by her carbon copy. Whatever happened, it looks like a prime candidate for caption competition to me...... Don't worry, I'm sure the mental scares have worn off by now......probably.

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Here's a nice little challenge for you. In 6 or less words, what sentence can you say to your offspring that is guaranteed to result in shouting, arguments and tantrums that can be felt on the other side of the globe. (And yes, I'm aware that if you have a teenager, then it could be literally anything). I'll get the ball rolling with a couple of my favourites - "netflix has stopped working", "it's leftovers for dinner" and "shoes on - we're for a walk! " The best / funniest comment with the most likes gets a prize (you can select from a number of things I have knocking around) and I'll ship it anywhere in the world. If it's a draw, I'll pick the one I like the best. Now, Let's see how good we are at winding up, no children were harmed in this picture, they were just very very annoyed.

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Are you booking one of those things.. you know...Remember when the whole family used to upsticks for a week or 2 and do the same things as they did at home, just in a slightly warmer place with less emails? What did they used to call them? oh, I know - HOLIDAYS. That special time when parents alcohol consumption goes up, screen time goes down, sand gets everywhere (this is Delilah feeding her sister a sandy chip on holiday - I could hear the sound of grit on teeth from a 100ft away) and everyone is just a slightly nicer version of their normal selves. The question is, has anyone actually got the guts to commit and book a holiday this year - at home or abroad - knowing there's a chance it will end up a puddle of childs tears and that familiar stench of disappointment when it gets cancelled? The last time i booked a holiday was in October 2019 - we're still waiting to go on it and I'm not holding my breath.

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Ahhh, Lego - those little blocks that 1). help make imagination a reality and 2). Cause grown adults to cry like children who've been bitten by a pissed-off pet hamster when they stand on them. Between the ages of 6 and 10, I spent most of my time in my room building stuff, chuffed that I completed packs meant for ages 12 to 14. I want my girls to have the same sort of childhood I did so I've desperately tried to get them into it, but patience just doesn't seem to be something this generation has. Within 15 minutes, Marnie was project managing from the sofa, leaving me to relive my youth as I waded through a sea of plastic cubes waiting to piece the flesh on the underside of my feet. What did we manage to create in 30 minutes? A mess basically. Do your girls play Lego as mine just don't seem interested.

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Today I became surplus to requirements as the twins made breakfast on their own. How times have changed - back in 2017, this was what breakfast looked like. Much like a team building exercise at work that no one really a cares about (apart from Phil in finance because Phil lives alone with his cat, captain Whiskerson, & has has no TV) the twins tackled the age old conundrum since bowls were invented - "How do I drink the milk at the bottom of the sodding bowl if the bowl's stuck to the table?" Ottie opted for the traditional 'spoon the milk on the table & face plant in it' - standard. Delilah thought outside the box & employed brute strength to overcome the gravity of the entire planet & poured the bowl, tray still attached, down her gullet. They have come so far and I couldn't be prouder.

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This is a long one, but it's worth it so bear with me. Day 6 & my parents are driving across the country to come & provide a helping hand. Having been on our own for so long, I've been running food stocks at bare minimum levels but after gazing into the fridge this morning, it became apparent that unless I wanted to feed my mum & dad cling film wrapped bowls of non descript half eaten meals, out of date yoghurts & veg that was growing new species, we were going to have to do a food shop before they arrived. Hands down the worst experience of the week - Delilah escaped the buggy & while chewing a pack of new Zealand lamb, proceeded to run away from me like a dog that had been stung in the arse by a genetically modified hornet. Minutes later a security guard returned her to me while I pleaded with ottie not to open the yoghurts. She ignored me & proceeded to dip her entire fist into it & do a picasso on the buggy. Oh joy. When we got to the checkout, i proceeded to unload everything from my basket , only to do a 180 & find my 2 Rays of sunshine had got out of their restraints again & were now proceeding to strip quicker than an overenthusiastic nudist on the first day of their holidays - Coats were thrown, wellies were discarded & trousers we round ankles. After members of the public helped load my shopping, i dressed them only for them to then scream solidly for the next 5 minutes without breath as I waited for everything to be scanned. I could actually feel my ass sweating from the stress as all eyes burnt holes in my head. I then forgot my pin number & after struggling to pull together enough cash , I realised I'd bought so much I couldn't carry it home without ripping my fingers to bloody shreds. To top it all, I got home only to realise I'd left the beer I bought on the floor by the tils. As you can imagine, the twins & I aren't talking right now. We need some space.

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I'm told that silence is golden, yet in my experience, silence comes in a multitude of colours & is a key indicator that something horrific is happening that I'll somehow get blamed for, despite having a water tight alibi & being miles away from the crime scene. More often than not, silence is accompanied, not by gold, but by dark shades of make up scrawled across walls by our resident amateur street artists as they perfect their tagging skills. This stuff is so permanent that should a nuclear war take place, only the cockroaches and this mark would remain intacted. There was a time when silence meant they were alseep or gorging themselves on yellowy nondescript purée, but now it brings me out in a cold flop sweat, quickly followed by the immortal words from all suspense films - " I don't like it. It's quiet - a little too quiet...." & mad dash to the Mecca of all grafatti fantatics under the age of 2 : the gap down the side of @mother_of_daughters dressing table. Why does it only happen on my watch?!

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I don't know about you, but seeing as we're all so well versed in home schooling now, I can't not look at every day events like watching TV and using them as learning opportunities (if you add the 5 episodes of paw patrol to the 7 you watched of blaze, how many hours of TV did you watch this morning whilst daddy was on conference calls?) Take this for example - What happens when you take 2 identical objects of equal size, mass and weight and place them equidistant from a raised central pivot point? The answer (much to the twins annoyance who were trying to make a fallen tree into a seesaw) is absolutely sod all. Sorry girls, physics obviously hates you and doesn't want you to enjoy yourself. Don't blame me.....blame science.

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"Daddy, what do you work at?" Boomed down the voice from up on high. It's Friday and I work from home which means I share my office with a house full of girls that think silence should be extinct. The conference call erupted into stifled laughter as I cursed my inability to hit 'mute' in a timely fashion. The truth is, not one of my girls really knows what I do for a job. For all the know, I could just lock the door and cover myself in ice cream while singing Mariah Carey songs all day.

Mummy "catches babies", that's easy. Daddy is a lot more vague - "he looks at computers, talks on the phone loudly to people while mouthing the words 'go away' and waving his arms a lot, and drinks tea all day." I've even heard Clemmie say that I work in HR.....which I don't. I'm basically chandler bing - I'm a transponder. Is this the case for everyone that works in an office? Is your job indescribable to kids? I bore myself when I describe mine....not exactly inspiring the next generation but it puts food on the table at least!

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Continuing the long tradition of twins being used in magic, this morning I walked in on what I can only assume was a rehearsal for a later showing of the classic illusion that has wowed audiences the world over - 'sawing a woman in half'. Ottie's upper torso was poking up out of the discarded IKEA kitchen sink unit, while Delilah waved her hands wildly, shouting incoherent nonsense as if she was a shaman talking in tongues (david Copperfield is an amateur in comparison to this miniature showman). Then the secret of the trick was revealed as the door flung over to expose a pair of flailing legs and a sagging nappy. I'm sure they'll have their membership credentials to the juniors magic circle revoked after this but it's nice to know how things work sometimes. Practice makes perfect girls. Keep trying.

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Teamwork makes the dream work. This is especially true if dream in question is to commit domestic based petty snack theft. And what better partner is there to have than your very own genetic clone - this enables the thieves to achieve things to couldn't do on their own, have water tight alibis and cause genuine confusion when in a police line up. There are however some downsides:

1). These 2 obviously never watched an episode of CSI as the amount of forensic evidence Left at the scene could have filled a bin bag.

2). Double the people means double the noise - they were as subtly as a 1970's Elton John outfit.

3). And finally, when they were caught in the act, they immediately turned on each other to save their own skin - Lucky for them I still struggle to tell them apart.

In the end, I just ate the biscuits and walked away. Crime never pays girls.

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Many people may celebrate hitting a number of followers but I prefer to celebrate the number of posts and today I reach 1000 posts precisely. 1000 smiles. 1000 arguments with @mother_of_daughters about bedtime routines and whose turn it is to read stories. 1000 hours of lost sleep. 1000 lost hair clips. 1000 snapshots of our attempts into being half-decent parents. 1000 rose-tinted glimpses into our journey, with an infinite number of memories still to be captured. And if I had to do it all again, there's only one person I'd want by my side through it all because, without Clemmie, these 1000 moments would have been so much harder to navigate. Bringing up girls is a challenge, I'm just glad I have a partner in all of it. On to the next...

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There are 9 standard unwritten rules when it comes to bath time that all parents must learn & follow:

1). Whoever runs the bath must milk it for as long as possible. Swishing the water to make bubbles & thereby extending this short stay-cation is completely allowed as its technically still doing the job.

2). You absolutely must make towers out of soapy hair & time how long it stays in position

3). If you're given a bubble beard, you MUST pretend to father Christmas complete with voice, even if it's June.

4). If you're on your own, you're totally aloud to skip bath time now and again as your other half will never know. As the old proverb goes "If a tree falls in the forest and no ones there to hear it, does it make a sound?" Same is true with bath time. Just ensure that you take steps to make it look like the kids touched water (i.e. splash some water around, move the bath Matt etc).

5). It doesn't matter how much you cover your tracks, they'll always find out you skipped bath time.

6). There is no such thing as too much conditioner when it comes to curly hair.

7). Never ever leave a full bottle of shampoo in the hands of child unless you want to return to £5's worth of product in the bath and an empty container

8). If you finish the bath with more than 50% of the water still in the tub, this counts as winning at life.

9).. It's totally ok to leave the kids clothes in a pile on the floor and forget about them, only to rediscover them the next evening. Have I missed any?

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Dearest sleep, you mean so much to me but over the summer I feel like we've drifted apart. We used to enjoy eachothers company & I'd race home after work to embrace you, but something's changed recently & we seem to have less & less time for eachother. Perhaps its the 4.30am musical beds routine we're stuck in that means I get the 6 inches of bed real estate, while the twins lie spread eagle & try their hardest to turn our bedroom into a vaccum chamber by inhale literally all the air through their mouths. Or maybe its juggling work with kids who need more attention than a peacock that's just had his tail feathers highlighted and wants everyone to know about it. It could be the dog in our room that pads around at all hours like a 4 legged intruder & licks any exposed body part that hangs out of the covers. Or maybe it's the frequent 2.30am intrusions from an 8 year that's convinced there's a large cat in her room & refuses to go back to bed without a chaperone. Whatever it is, I'm shattered & I'm miss you. When the holidays are over, please let's be together again. Love always, Simon.

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Post vasectomy, the doctor gave me this advice - 'take it easy for a couple of days & try to just lie on the sofa", he then smiled and continued "but I know you've got 4 daughters, so that's unlikely. Just be careful". 24 hours later & with Clemmie reliving her youth by watching the Spice Girls & singing 'Wannabe' at the top of her lungs, I planned on following his advice. The timing was perfect - our new sofa from @sofadotcom arrived today, so my mission was to get some practice in for Fathers day & spend a considerable amount of time making a perfect imprint of myself on the cushions. The stage was set - a pizza & cold beer with in reaching distance & a strategically placed cold bag of sweetcorn for comfort - Bliss. This was the precise moment that I recieved an early fathers day gift - my first post op nut shot from Delilah (thanks Anya for capturing the moment). Luckily my tears just rolled off the wipe clean fabric. Fathers day will be spent attempting to set a new world record for being motionless while necking arnica & protecting myself. Wonderful.

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Here's to all the father's out there. To the fresh-faced new dads & the ones who have war stories and experience lines. To the ones who act as human climbing frames, that fix broken things, that know all the lines to kids TV Shows & that devour the kids left over food. To father's who strive to set benchmark of what men should be so high, that no future boyfriend's will ever match up. To the fathers who are a shoulder to cry on, not someone to cry about. To the dads that get on with life without making a drama, that stands in the middle of arguments instead of starting them, that counsel and guide the new generation to be better than themselves, that hold hands and give bear hugs that are accompanied with a good dose of beard rash. To the dads who stay at home, to the ones that work & to the ones that don't. To the dad's that tell terrible jokes & are a constant embarrassment to their offspring but see the fun in life, that smile and know that that they are doing their best for the ones they love. To every type of father there is out there - Happy Father's Day - be proud you can call yourself 'dad' - it's a true privilege.

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Had I known that volunteering to take all 4 girls swimming would result in a public body shaming at the hands of my own off spring & a day light mugging by a vending machine that refused to fork over the poppets, I probably would have just stayed at home. It's not the swimming that I hate. It's the 10 minutes in the family changing cubicles I despise - A battery farm of naked families all contained in 6 by 6 ply wood boxes within inches of each other - all arguing about who got mummy's pants wet, where that random plaster that little Timmy is licking came from and why no one has any sodding 20ps for the locker. Not content with this uncomfortable setting, my girls decided to very loudly state as I undressed - "look, look - it's daddy's willy!' This was closely followed by laughter from them, several other kids 1 cubicle over & a passing adult who couldn't contain themselves. Then to top it all, as my girls finished changing, they swung the door open &, as if in a budget red light district that specialized 35+ men who haven't exercised in a while, exposed me in my birthday suit to any passes by that fancied a free gander. No slush puppies today girls, Daddy needs to leave this place immediately.

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"Right, are you all ready for bed?" "No." "Please just stay in bed, it's taken ages to get you in here - just tell me what you need & I'll get it." Too late, she's already gone and legged it downstairs, leaving me sprawling on the floor after a miss-timed tackle. After some smashing & shouting, Delilah returns with an umbrella and sunglasses. "Why?" "Because my bed is too hot & I want to stay cool"


Toddler logic is wonderful. Not sure if she meant 'querky cool' or 'temperature cool', but she nailed both in one go.

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What would you do if someone asked you what socks you'd like to wear today? Most normal people would probably pick some socks, right? Not my girls. I can only assume that the twins are dramatically behind on rehearsals for their Vegas show - 'Transparent magic' - as instead of picking socks, Ottie made like a junior contortionist / glamourous assistant, dislocated her spine, and hid in a see-through box. Then Delilah, the frontman of this C grade 2 piece, promptly stood on it, shouted what I assumed were garbled magic words directly at me & waited for her sister to vanish. Hands down the worst trick in history. You can through the box girls. Suffice it to say, the only thing to vanish was my patience and Ottie went to nursery barefoot.

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One moment I'm method-acting the crap out of my role as a granny named Lucy at an exclusive tea party hosted by the twins, the next they've abandoned me quicker than the entourage of a celebrity embroiled in a sex scandal to act out scenes from a budget version of king Kong. At that moment, I transformed from being an engaged parent to a 36-year-old man in the tent who's been left to ponder his life choices whilst talking to himself in strange accents & drinking air from a wooden cup. Isn't parenting wonderful? There's a long list of things I've continued to do when those with the attention span of a senile goldfish decide to sod off that includes colouring, Lego, playing with dolls & simple puzzles that I time myself to complete because, well, why not! Who else has been dumped mid-play & continued on your own?

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Dads change nappies too: Apart from the ballsy women with bladders apparently the size of an old pea that barges into men's toilets to avoid the queue of cross-legged females snaking around the building, many ladies probably have no idea what goes on in the room marked 'Gentlemen'. Well here's the secret - it's usually a lot of guys peeing into urinals trying to overcome stage fright, a couple of blocked toilets, a few broken taps, a floor that's like walking on glue, and occasionally a guy struggling to change their kids nappy - jacket laid on the toilet seat, on his knees in a cubicle, keeping the broken door shut with his arse. Why? Because, believe it or not, in 2019 many men's toilets still don't have changing tables. That means we either rough it in the men's, use the disabled one to go alfresco (behind a tree / down an alley), or pass responsibilities to the ladies in our lives. This needs to change. And I'm not just talking about the nappy. Any dad's out there with horror stories to share? Is your country better than the UK? I want to get legislation changed so can do what has to be done in relative comfort and hygiene!

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Either Delilah is using the fridge to conduct climate simulation training for a nursery day trip up the north face of the Eiger that I don't remember signing the consent form for or I've just caught the person responsible of footprints in the butter & the constant vanishing of yogurts, frankfurters, grapes, blueberries, and cheese strings. This also explains why she always had a cold stomach and looks permanently guilty. Note to all fridge designers - I need a decent fridge lock and shelves that can't be used and steps. Anyone got any bright ideas to stop the human fridge magnets that don't involve gaffer tape?

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Sharing is caring. Unless you're talking about a hamster, in which case, sharing can take a long walk off a short pier in concrete boots. Although we have 2 hamsters, it's fluffy (The least originally named hamster in world) that my heart goes out to as without making a conscious choice, he looks like a soft toy and is therefore the one that gets loved to death by the ottie and Delilah. It's like watching Of mice and Men in real time as their claw like hands simultaneously grab for him and enter into a battle of who can love him the most. Taking turns doesn't computer for these 2, so inevitably one twin tests the sound proofing of the house by screaming, while the other vigorously massages him until he's returned the to relative safety of his cage where he no doubt thinks about what he's going to say at his next 'over handled pets' support group. Oh the life of a pet around toddlers.

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From memory, I spent a large proportion of my childhood walking around on my dad's feet until the day arrived that I was too big and crushed his toes flatter than a glass of cola left out for a month. Now I regularly find my a child welded to my feet, asking for rides and 'giant footsteps' which I'm cool with it, Clemmie on the hand isn't such a fan. Perhaps it's because her new footwear is somewhat boney & moist, constantly shouts 'mummy' at a volume that leaves you with tinnitus and makes doing the most basic of tasks like walking feel like having your feet set in quick-drying cement, making progress so slow that ice ages come and go before you make it across the room. If they marketed these toddler boots the tagline would be "the shoes that stop you achieving anything". I have a feeling they'd flop badly.

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Forget ultra marathons, this summer has been 2-month long endurance parenting test that's pushed us beyond what we'd previously thought humanly possible. It's tested our ability to balance childcare with work & to not forget where the girls are at any one time, our patience with bored kids (despite being offered every activity known to man) & our skills in pulling together meals that aren't scoffed at my our in-house restaurant critics.

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Did anyone else get the memo to inform all parents that it's International opposites day today? No? Me neither but Apparently all children have been informed it's totally ok to do the exact opposite of what all overbearing full grown humans tell them to do. Case in point - this evening's Bathtime - I said: "Please stop splashing! Mummy will kill me when I forget to tidy this up later". What they heard was "Please go ahead & start up a toddler-induced wave machine the scale of which could be used to test warships, soak the floor & then flail about like a confined depressed killer whale which will eventually eat its trainer". Turns out it's fine though as the water has now drained through the cracks in the floorboards & has seeped through the ceiling downstairs. This only even happens when I'm in charge on my own. Coincidence?

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Children are basically human versions of a 'find my phone' app - as annoying as it may be, if kids are making a noise, you then at least know where they are, it's when they're silent that you need to worry as it usually results in a mess I'll get blamed for, a lot of scrubbing & a dubious home insurance claim. This evening I walked in on the aftermath of 'operation sunblock' - a covert operation to liberate all the suncream from the confines of my bedside drawer. The results - 2 well moisturized guilty-looking girls who smelt like holiday & won't be getting a tan anytime soon & a floor more slippery than an overexcited eel who'd just won a jelly wrestling competition. Lessons to learn: 1). if it's silent, something bad is happening & 2). I will always be the blame even if when I'm nowhere near the scene of the crime.

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Yes I do look like the mid 30's love child of a Disney Princess and the Easter bunny or perhaps an unsuccessful drag act you'd find on a cruise liner who specialises in animal impressions, but this what happens when you let you children projectile vomit the contents of the dressing up box onto you. Clemmie walked in on us after l having called us for dinner multiple times to find what must look like the hangers-on who are still sleeping in field 2 days after the festival finished - me, a blond Bob Dylan lookalike, a fairy & a disgruntled Delilah who was livid that the very hungry Caterpillar costume was covered in welded on weetabix. Clemmie turned & walked out in silence - you said you'd take me in sickness and in health - well dressing up is my sickness. Now, how do you dislocate your shoulders to get out of this human body trap?

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Just so we're clear, this isn't an ad!! This evening I successfully picked up all 4 girls & completed an emergency shop on the way home. With my arms laden with life admin essentials, everyone disembarked from the car & bounded off towards the house, arguing over who could scream the loudest. Every that is apart from Ottie, who instead decided to do her best impression of discarded flavourless chewing gum & welded herself to the pavement. A 2-minute silent stand ensued during which time 3 people walked passed this small human obstacle & tried to help encourage her to give up on the horizontal protest/cloud gazing session, yet she proved to be tougher to shift than lipstick from a carpet (and that's tough, believe me). I honestly couldn't tell you why this all started, but it finished with her getting up, staring at me with death-ray eyes that went straight through my heart and walked off as if I was nothing had happened. I've been in meetings where I wished I'd employed this tactic. Oh to be 2 again.

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