Morning Humdrums

Does anyone else out there have mornings like mine? Sometimes I think I may as well just play a tape of myself saying the same things over and over again each morning.

It all began with Max, who is sensitive in the mornings anyway, crying because Jonah had screamed in his ear to wake him up. A good start, I thought to myself. He then slowly hauled himself out of bed and wanted me to dress him (at 7 years old?!).

Over breakfast, I tried to talk to them about the arguing that seems to be a constant at the moment. I gave up on the serious talk when I realised I was talking to myself. I then said "Eat your breakfast, Max" about 20 times before he actually remembered he was eating his breakfast and not making up silly songs with Jonah.

After breakfast, Toby went straight upstairs to clean his teeth and brush his hair. Or he would have gone straight upstairs if he hadn't been distracted on the way there by playing mario cart on the wii. This created an argument while Jonah proceeded to press the power button on the wii while Toby was trying to play his game, much to Toby's great distress. "If you had gone straight upstairs like I told you to, then this wouldn't have happened....", I lectured him, rather smugly it has to be said.

In between all this, Jonah had found 3 ping pong balls, which they all then decided they wanted. After a great deal of crying and fighting over whose ping pong ball was whose, I confiscated them. Now, when I envisaged having children all those years ago, I never in my wildest dreams imagined that I would have to confiscate ping pong balls. However, it seems it is possible to argue over anything. Even ping pong balls.

As we were leaving to go to school, Jonah asked if he could push his little pushchair. Knowing what this would mean, I told him that he could but that I wouldn't be carrying it for him when he gave up with it halfway there. "I won't!", he promised me. He carefully put in Little Doggie and George the pretend kitten (which is Max's) to push to school. Just as we'd got out of the door, Max decides he doesn't want Jonah to take George in case he gets lost. After a long and complicated negotiation, Max was able to let Jonah push George but if George gets lost, Jonah will buy him a new one (I, of course, kept my eye on George to make sure this wouldn't happen). As we rounded the corner from our house, Jonah sat down on the pavement and sighed a deep sigh. "I can't push it anymore", he moaned. Oh, how right mothers can be! Somehow I coaxed him to push it all the way down the road so that he could hide it behind a tree and collect it on the way home again. Unfortunately, it was still there.

When we arrived home, Jonah (who was going to playgroup in ten minutes time) asked to do painting. I said no. He then asked for food, to which I also said no. He then asked for a drink, which I made him but apparently did not put enough blackcurrant in so he refused to drink it. He then asked me for more food. I repeated myself again and said no. After all this, it was time for playgroup.

I made the mistake of mentioning that it might rain later. He decided he wanted to take his umbrella. Now, if I had a sweet little child who did not have any imagination, I would not mind him taking his umbrella. However, I do not. An umbrella can be transformed into all kinds of evil weaponry which can maim innocent bystanders. So, the umbrella request was also turned down. Of course, this meant that he had to sit on the floor for a few minutes continuing to ask for his umbrella, in vain hope that he might change my stubborn mind. I did not.

Finally, oh finally, he was delivered into the hands of the smiling playgroup staff.

Now, amidst a house littered with pyjama bottoms, blankets, marbles, lego men and dirty tissues that have been left for someone else to bin, I have a few hours of peace. Aaaaahhhhh.