Some Mothers Do Ave Em

I walked in from work (well someone has to) to a massive row between child 2 and 3, where 2 was screeching at 3 about wearing her clothes. 3 had come in from school and put on an outfit which consisted completely of 2’s clothes, just to go and sit round her boyfriends house for the evening.  2 even gave 3 a light punch to the arm, which had 3 in hysteric’s and just led to 2 getting even more annoyed.  I tried to insist that 3 went upstairs and took off all of 2’s clothes as she has enough of her own, and when she gets undressed at night, she just throws clothes on floor and fills the laundry basket about once a month (after weeks of prompting) which means 2 can never find her things unless she goes into 2’s room (worse  than a  comic relief climb to kilamanajaro) and picks them up off floor and puts them in the wash herself.  3 went upstairs and a few minutes later we heard the front door go, so obviously she was still sporting 2’s attire as she left the house.  So I look forward to sorting this out once and for all, when she gets back later.

Child 1, unexpecting turned up with a bunch of flowers for moi, some Tesco belgian chocolates (which are half full of black ones – yuck, she knows I love Lindt truffles or Thorntons Toffee, so why not buy them?).  When I enquired as to why I deserved such gifts, she reminded me that she won’t be around on Sunday, due to weekend away with the “dope smoker”.  I was rather hoping for Revive skincare or Ren Otto Rose Shower Gel.  Why when I put myself to so much trouble to buy the perfect gifts for my children, are they so bloody unimaginative when it comes to buying for me?