A clean sweep

We had a good day today. Good as in productive, or mostly so. We trailed around the supermarket and successfully filled our trolley. Even though a mother told me how glad she was that she wasn't the only one with children who climbed up the shelves and rattled the wine display, we weren't the loudest and most disruptive in the checkout queue. The Dad in the line next to us tried to ask the packer for a refund for his two.

I've swept the front path of leaves once, the kitchen floor twice, cleaned the filter and unblocked the soap tray in the washing machine, filled it and the tumble dryer twice and the dish washer has been on for most of the day. Harry has had me helping with his homework and printing certificates from the CBeebies website, and we have coloured in countless Father Christmases and other line drawings together.

Emily has had her hair brushed and arranged countless times, her hair bands, ties, scrunchies and slides fitted, removed, rearranged and refitted, and both of them have demanded apple, raisins and juice all day. Lunch was a breeze, and Emily managed to wear her tomato soup in a mud splattered design for the whole afternoon without wanting to change.

We only had a sense of humour failure at bath time, and I can't even remember why. Both Harry and Emily went to sleep easily and quickly after a story and I almost feel like a proficient Mum.

But I never will be.