3rd Day of Christmas. (Gnash Gnash)

Occasionally (albeit rarely, in this house) parents stumble onto something which is so brilliant, they wonder why they never thought of it before.  Let me share with you my fabulous get-them-out-of-the-house-in-the-morning Damascus moment.

Such was necessary because we are ALWAYS late for school.  The kids dawdle and play and fight, and generally take advantage of the fact that I’m faffing about and chasing my tail and remembering at the last minute all the crap that comes with getting three kids out the door (the Baby comes along for the ride). 

So yesterday, after the usual put-your-shoes-on-put-your-shoes-on-PUT-YOUR-SHOES-ON-NOW! shout-fest, I had a brainwave. I told the kids that from now on if they are not standing by the door fully dressed, bags, lunch-boxes and sports gear at the ready and ready to go when my alarm goes off, they are being brought to school as is.  If they’re naked, or wearing their sister’s knickers on their heads or generally in any of the many ridiculous states they’re generally in at ten past the leaving time, that’s how they’ll be brought to school.  They were incredulous, but I stuck to my guns, and, unwilling to take any chances, they were all beautifully lined up and ready this morning.

(Of course I was still faffing about, and had to run back inside to get my water bottle, then wipes for the baby, so we were late as usual, but I see great potential in this.)

Less successful was the other parenting brainwave I attempted to implement last night.  As I was putting the kids in their pjs, I noticed the Boy’s breath smelt sweet.  So of course I jumped to conclusions and accused him of eating sweets (they still have a stash hidden from Halloween, which – thankfully – they keep forgetting about).  He was absolutely adamant that he hadn’t, looked me straight in the eye and swore he DID NOT.  So I apologised, and then went into his bathroom and found a discarded lollipop wrapper and stick.  But.  It could have been there from another time, right?  So I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.  I sat him down, looked him in the eye, and asked him if he’d eaten a lollipop.  “No Mum, I swear I haven’t.” 

And then he smirked. 

So, he needed a punishment.  Not so much for eating sweets when he’s not allowed to (sweets are usually for weekends only), but for lying – so smoothly! – about it.  Anyway, I came up with the BEST punishment.  I told him that he was  going to be sent to bed without brushing his teeth.  Brilliant, no?

Except -  no.  He was hysterical - started weeping and stammering, giving me every reason why he had to brush his teeth.  “Do you want to have to pay for my fillings? Is THAT what you want?” So we discussed it – I discussed it, he was too fraught – and when I’d finished talking, he burst into tears and howled – “I DON’T WANT TO END UP LOOKING LIKE YOU!”

Hmmm. Sometimes those moments of parenting brilliance aren’t so brilliant after all.

(On the other hand, if anyone wants to get their kids into the teeth-brushing habit, let me know and I’ll send you a pic of my silver-fillinged-mouth.)