On the fifth day of Christmas, one of my true loves tried to give to me...

It’s my Birthday!  And, as with so many other days in my parenting life, it started off pretty well, before the wheels came off. 

I awoke, after 8 unbroken hours’ sleep, in a beautiful hotel, and had  the perfect breakfast – uninterrupted, English breakfast tea, and decent newspapers. The plan was for the kids to come and join us, we’d spend the morning splashing about in the hotel pool / on the beach, then head home, maybe a spot of shopping, maybe a glass of champagne, maybe a movie. Maybe even a nap!  (It is my birthday after all.)  However, it was pissing rain – which did nothing to dampen my good humour, except for a passing thought as to what to do with the kids for the rest of the day if it continued.

And with that, I thoroughly jinxed myself.

A few minutes later the kids tumbled in, a collective ball of frenetic energy, chased the hotel’s peacocks about for a bit, then we all tumbled up the stairs to the room. I cuddled up in bed with the Girl, as close as I could get, loving the feel of her long limbs entwined with mine, her mop of hair against my own (the relevance of this will be obvious shortly.)  Then once presents were opened (books!  Make-up!  A fabulous handbag!) the Girl plonked herself on my knee, and just as I was about to nuzzle into her – because, really, the only thing more nuzzleable than a 4 year old girl is a 2 year old girl – I noticed something on her head.  I blinked and – it was gone,  I looked again.  I saw it again.

Then it scurried off.  

It can’t be nice, if you’re 4, to be thrown across a room - but sometimes circumstances demand it.

(Remember what we learnt from the Great Car Infestation?  Where there’s one, there are many...)

So, to wit “what shall we do with the kids for the rest of the day if the rain continued”?  This: 

And this:

And three children and three adults.  And FOUR HOURS.

It was, I think, the most disgusting parenting task I have ever undertaken. 

We were all clear – except for the Girl, who was most definitely NOT clear – but still my head has not stopped itching for the day.  I itch all over.   Surely it is not right for a lady in the afternoon of her life to spend her birthday doing such things?   It was, quite honestly, the most disgusting thing I have faced in all of my parenting adventures.

Ugh. 

And with that I am off to start drinking.  Those memories of the creepy crawlies scurrying around her head are not going to erase themselves.