Roses Round The Door

I travelled back from London this evening, just to spend some time with my girls, before I get up early tomorrow to go back again.

I arrived home to find that, although it was past bedtime, they had not showered, were not in their pyjamas, had not finished their homework. They'd only had a mere 5 hours to carry out these simple tasks. When I asked them to do so, there was huffing-and-puffing, rolling of eyes, dragging of feet, mutterings-under-the-breath.

This wasn't the end of it. Oh no.

"When I have children" said Thing Two, "I'm going to be Proper Mummy, not like you".

I reminded her, meanly, that she had only recently announced (when her grandparents were here) that she was going to be lesbian and live on a farm with her friend Tanya and not have any children.

Eyes roll to the heavens. "Tanya's going to have them. We're going to have a sperm donor. Then actually we'll have two Mummies. Proper Mummies". Holy shit. These girls are nine years old. How do they know all this stuff?

"Good for you!" I said cheerily. "Go to bed now".

Thing One is too surly to discuss the relative merits of Proper and Improper Mummies, gay, straight, curious or open to offers.

"I don't know why you've come all the way back from London just to nag us to go to bed".

I grit my teeth and say nothing, fantasising about the good old day of Proper Mummies, when we also had Proper Smacking and Proper Clips Around The Ear and so forth.

I tuck her into bed too. She smiles sweetly and says "please will you bring me a signature drink?"

?????!!!!!

I am going to stay over in London tomorrow night. Little bastards.