I have been awake since 5.30. I was rudely awoken by the 3 year old who crawled into bed and clamped his cold feet to my toasty warm body. I was momentarily bitter, well, for a few moments actually.
I read Snow White & the Seven Dwarves 14 times. The 3 year old is particularly taken by the evil queen who he refers to as the ‘nice fairy’.
I have drunk three cups of tea, it is only 7am.
I start breakfast proceedings. The 4 year old appears all sleepy, but instantly bossy. I ask them what they want; Cheerios for the 4 year old, Boulders and Crispies for the 3 year old. He’s a cereal mixer just like Gramps and Mummy.
After breakfast I bung some washing in the dryer and put a new load in the washer. The never ending cycle. I constantly have two baskets of ironing on standby. Standing by for a time when I have three days spare to do the lot in one go. Never. Gonna. Happen.
The chilren are playing one of their chase, growl and laugh, chase, growl and cry games together.
I tell them I’m going to get ready for work; No playing with knives, ringing Australia on my mobile or ordering porn on Sky. I’m joking right?
All is well. I am able to shower, get dressed, apply make-up and, shock horror, brush my hair. I worry that my work colleagues may not recognise me if I am not sporting my ‘dragged through a hedge’ look.
I come back downstairs and busy myself with packing my handbag with enough sugary snacks to last till lunchtime. I can hear the children playing. This is a good sign. Silence is bad, screaming is bad, good old chuntering and playing is excellent. The only problem being I can’t locate them!
I follow their hushed tones to the downstairs toilet. I panic a little, my heart isn’t ready for another episode of poo clearing, wee on the wall or a towel induced sink flood or … well they could be up to anything to be fair.
I open the door anxiously to find, in a room the size of an average toilet cubicle, the 3 year old, a pillow, a drum, some plastic food, a small suitcase and the 4 year olds duvet which is … moving.
I remove the duvet to find the dog, a rather large Labrador, who looks at me with pleading eyes. If she could speak she would be screaming ‘PLEASE TAKE ME AWAY FROM THESE PEOPLE’.
After a discussion about toilets and bedding not mixing, the dog liking her own space and the perils of playing games in the vicinity of the toilet bowl I go to work …
… for a rest.