Pardon Sweetheart?

As I dabbed at the blackcurrant stain that, naturally, had chosen to splosh the white stripe on the rug, I wondered whether the Vanish Spray worked on husbands.

Accountant’s self-righteous “Mary Poppins” Daddy routine was beginning to grate on my nerves. I’ve clocked approximately 10,920 hours on my ‘Mummy Mileometer’ since Chickie’s birth. Accountant was approaching his 3rd consecutive hour spent in his son’s company in over a week, when he thought it prudent to point out to me that Chickie was just a baby and couldn’t help crying.

I thanked him for his profound insight into my child’s psyche. Of course he was right, what sort of mother expresses any sign of weariness at her son's screaming, bouncy, temper tantrum as viewed through the bars of his stairgate?

Forgive me if my extra 10,917 consecutive hours sometimes find me teetering precariously on the tightrope of tolerance. How do you stay so calm after a full 180 minutes? Then followed a screaming, bouncy, temper tantrum all of my own.