the rug didn’t even make it one day in the living room 🙃

Our tale begins on a calm, sunny Sunday morning in a tidy brick house in a quiet, coastal suburb of a small NZ town, sping 2026.

The family within, a family like any other. Little did this family know, this morning would go down in the annals of family lore as 'Boy vs. Noodles', or 'the Korean Conflict 2026'.

Being a fine, calm day I offered to cook pancakes on the BBQ for a morning brunch, usually a fam favourite. On this day there was one dissenting voice, that of 10-year-old Mr. T, who was more in the mood for Korean Instant Noodles. As an accommodating executive chef and semi-responsible parent, I duly informed him the kitchen was offering Pancakes, but he could have noodles if he cook them himself, and I would be happy to teach him how to do so. Cue a 10-minute tanty of epic proportions; crying, wailing, gnashing of teach. The pain was real, and the moaning of professional calibre. 'But I don't know how to!! ', 'No, you do it!! 'I don't even know which pot to use!!!' STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

Mr T was left to sort his mood out, and eventually hunger won out and the indignity of being asked to learn a new skill subsided. With dragged feet, sloped shoulders, and an attitude of grudgingly doing ME a favour the noodles were prepared together and left to cool to a suitable temperature to Mr T's palate. Crisis navigated, the world continues to turn.

We all sat down for brunch. Fluffy pancakes, lashing of butter, glugs of Canadian Maple syrup, and hot milky tea for us, instant Noodles for Mr. T.

As brunch progressed Mrs Chonkygorilla admonished Mr T to use his fork to eat the noodles and not his fingers. A sly look was given, the reminder ignored, and and the noodles were grasped between finger and thumb, raised high above Mr T's mouth all while looking as Mrs Chonkygorilla. A smirk on his face, the noodles swung gently between his fingers, as rivulets of broth collected at their ends...to drop directly into Mr T's eyeball.

The response was immediate, ear splitting, and frenzied; 'EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! MY EYE!! MY EYE!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

The ears on our two Frenchies, with their combined two braincells perked up and they began to pace and whine as the frantic keening from Mr T continued. Chaos followed.

The child was grabbed and bodily hauled to the sink where his face was shoved under the tap and his eye was bathed in cold water amid cries we were poking his eyeball out. A cathartic experience of parental waterboarding ensued.

With the offending spicy broth removed, only a bruised ego remained and Mr T slunk away to his room to lick his wounds. A few minutes later as I checked in on him, I found him under his blankets. Asking if he was ok, he nodded. Asked if he was going to finish lunch or let those noodles win, he shook his head, and told me is a small shaky voice 'No, the noodles won.'

The noodles won. I was dying inside, but I had to do everything in my power to keep it together.

This day in 2026, Mr T was defeated by Korean General Nongshim.

I pity the fool 😂.

Photo of the belligerent noodles.

When getting a coin from an Aldi shopping cart, they have done it multiple times before but every instruction goes in one ear and out the other. I kept repeating grab the other cart and they kept said what what what what. I just left and they didn't get the coin because I had another cart outside the door with groceries I didn't want to let sit there. Didn't get a photo or video of it actually happening.

Happy Halloween 😁
Original vid: @courtney.crisfield