I was full of nervous apprehension this morning. I tried to hide it so the children wouldn’t pick up on the butterflies that were zorbing through my stomach.
I had everything ready the night before, tuna pasta had been made for the kids breakfast, their kit was clean, and their shoes were gleaming.
Sometimes I read rubbish stuff; mainly from the trash magazines that I read for a guilty pleasure but more often from the rags we call newspapers.
Today the headline that caught my eye in the Metro was:
Some ruffian has laid their lips on my daughter.
Some cheeky little so and so has had the nerve to declare himself my daughters first boyfriend and sealed the deal with a puckered up kiss which apparently she willingly accepted.
I have a bit of a reputation for avoiding blog hops, memes and doing arty things with my kids so prepare yourselves as I am about to attempt to do all three in one blog post.
Before I lose your interest let me tell you why:
“No child is born to die, but 8 million children under five die every year from illnesses we know how to treat or prevent, such as diarrhoea and pneumonia. In the 21st century, this is utterly wrong.”
To my intense surprise out on our weekly supermarket trip this week my three little leg hangers all behaved impeccably. So much so on the drive home I gushed to them about their behaviour and whilst telling them how great they were and not paying attention to my surroundings twin boy caught me in a vulnerable moment and asked if because they had been good could they have a treat.
“Of course” I replied, thinking a Freddo or a fudge, maybe even half an hour of Scooby Doo.
“Wicked,” said twin boy, “can we go there.”