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To My Children: Why?

Dear children, some questions for you, in return the great many you ask me. Every minute of every day.

1. Why do you decide you have to get the Hama beads out 3 minutes before we’re due to leave for school?

2. Why do you always stand just that bit too far away from me when I’m trying to get you dressed? I don’t have Mr Tickle arms.

3. Why do you insist on balancing on a perilously small stool with one foot on the radiator when I’m trying to get your tights on?

4. Why do you decide that you simply HAVE to go to nursery in a swimming costume, when you’re already dressed with your coat and shoes on?

5. Why do you have to get out of our 4 door car through the driver’s door putting muddy footprints all over the seats (which are admittedly pretty disgusting anyway)?

6. Why do neither of you EVER REMEMBER to flush the loo?

7. Why can we not get through a meal without half of it, including forks ending up on the floor?

8. Tilly why do you insist on listening to the Black Keys in the car? It’s becoming much like Wheels on the Bus to me now.

9. Why won’t either of you accept that 5.30am is NOT MORNING?

10. Why are you both so utterly gorgeous despite questions 1 – 9?

I love them to bits, but they certainly have their own ways of doing things and woe betide he or she who tries to intervene. This list is in no way exhaustive. I imagine anyone reading this has many they could add.

But you know what? Like all things with children, they’ll do something intensely irritating and then something so overwhelmingly adorable, that just catches you unawares that you forget all about it. Earlier as Tilly was walking around with a pink blanket over her shoulders by way of a cape and a tiara on I said:

“Oh hello, what a beautiful Princess.”

“No, I’m not a Princess. I’ve just got a blanket round my shoulders Mummy.”

Sorry, silly of me.

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