What are we doing today, Mummy?

Yesterday's posting was a bit sad at the ending of an era. But don't worry - I've spent a rainy day (well, morning, actually) at home with both boys and I am SO over that.

SO SO over that.

If you have children you will be very familiar with the phrase I've used as the title of today's posting. It's just a few words, but - unless you are much better prepared for a rainy Friday than I am - I imagine it drives mothers crazy the world over.

'What are we doing today, Mummy?'

Do you ever dream of answering that question honestly?

"Well, darling, today we are going to clear up the breakfast things, start the dishwasher and the washing machine, reorganise the laundry on the drying rack to minimise drying time, rush around opening all the blinds and curtains, and do the first of many rounds of tidying up. This is in no particular order, and one task may interrupt another at any time for no good reason (other than the fact that I am incapable of staying focused on only one job for more than a couple of minutes), thus resulting in most of them taking them twice as long as they need to.

Then, I am going to ask you put on your shoes - 4 times, probably, before you take any notice - bundle you and your brother into your coats and hats, realise it's raining cats and dogs and that I've left the umbrellas in the car down the street, and manhandle the buggy up the steps. I will then run back down the steps to double check I've locked the front door (which I know I have but hey, let's just make sure), before embarking on a splashy walk to the shops.

About half way there you will start to complain that your legs hurt, and I will endeavour to distract you by pointing out the biggest puddles I can find for you to jump in (thus ensuring a change of clothes and yet more washing is required when we get home). This technique will restore relative calm until we are nearly at our destination, when your brother will start to shout for food because he wouldn't touch his breakfast and is now - an hour later - starving.

As we leave the bakers -with you and your brother stuffing your faces with bread roll and doing a pretty good impression of children who are never fed at home - you will announce at the top of your voice that you need a poo. This will cause all the tourists eating their breakfasts (who had been enjoying the picturesque view of you and your brother looking winsome, nudging each other and smiling in an avuncular style) to turn away and hurridly finish their coffee. We will then need to go into the shop with the nearest guaranteed to-be-not-too-disgusting loo to avert disaster. As usual, this means Starbucks, so my resolution not to buy myself a hot chocolate will go out of the window, and you and your will brother demand a chocolate coin. All 3 of us will then be totally sugared up before 10.00am..."

However.

What I actually said was something like "Oh, well, let's see. This morning you're coming to the dentist to watch mummy get her teeth checked so you can see what happens there, and later this afternoon we'll see Fred and Jamie in the garden - if it ever stops raining."

You've got to hold some of the good stuff back, right? No point getting them totally over-excited...