Fight or Flight?

This post is coming to you from under a throw, as a remote control helicopter controlled by my Dad flies around my head, occasionally dive bombing me, and using me as a human helipad. It's not a fun experience, but I have come to realise that actions do cause consequences, I never should have bought it him for Christmas. Over the passed few months he has become so much more skilled with it, which has caused me nothing but trouble. I'm mainly terrified at the thought of it getting caught in my hair. How vain?! 

"I wish I had some bombs," are the most recent words that my Dad has uttered. Causing me to laugh. 


The situation only becomes worse when Michael joins in. (see how I only call him Michael when he's in trouble.) They then create little challenges, such as who can land the helicopter on the make shift helipad, which we shall call a McDonald's drink carton. Haha. Male bonding. 

Luckily at the moment this the down time between charges, but any minute now I will  have to return back to the protection of the throw. I'll leave you with that thought. Haha..

Speak Soon, 

Katie

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