We had the rare privilege this morning of having our two eldest come in for a cuddle this morning.
Usually, it’s the littlest, who materialises almost every morning between 5am and 6am, or the eldest, who is there when we go to bed each night and refuses to leave until we get very angry.
Godzilla usually misses out, morning and night.
But here he is, climbing in with all his freezing cold and pointy bits, and his remarkable ability to somehow end up between us. We have, in the past, gone to great lengths to prevent this, wrapping ourselves around each other. He still managed to get between us. We have yet to work out how he does it.
We must be getting towards the end of school holidays, because he asks “Mummy, are you always an ogre?”
“Only sometimes, sweetheart. Other times I am a beautiful princess Mummy,” which causes Grumpy to snort loudly, then backpedal widly when I glare at him and point out how I occasionally like to be complimented and various mentions of “might get more sex if you do”.
“Really?” asks Godzilla. “When are you a beautiful princess mummy?”
And I went on to explain the long and complex story of how I had a curse put upon me and I turn into an orge when my children don’t listen to me and misbehave and don’t tidy up their rooms or be helpful and when they don’t turn off their DS or Wii when asked the first time, and it is only when they truly love me and listen to me and tidy up their rooms and give me a foot massage and buy me flowers and take me out for nice dinners