… No, that is not all. Friday did not stop there. Fate was truly smiling on me that day!

Around one o’clock, having just arrived home and found more suitable attire for Baby Sister (if I remember well, this Little Mermaid dress) I received - and failed to answer - four calls on my cellphone while trying to convince The Wictor that horizontal was the best way to fall asleep in a comfy comfy bed (oh so comfy! Look! Mommy’s sleeping!). One call was from the school, and three calls were from The Daddy to let me know that the school was calling. Turned out Friday was early closing. I should have been in that car line at 12.30. 

That blank page in my agenda? A total lie. By 1.15 I had all three children at home.

One who was sick but wasn’t and wanted to watch TV while I dressed and undressed her Barbies to her whims.

One who would usually have been napping but wasn’t and spent the afternoon running around getting progressively more cranky.

And one who would normally have been at school but wasn’t and came to me with endless requests for boxes and tape and balloons and string and please cut a hole here in the top of my robot/box and can I put water in it because it’s an underwater world now and well then which box can I have to put water in and can I cut a hole in it? No, right here in the kitchen. No the water won’t fall out, it won’t Mommy, I wanna stay in the kitchen! Oh OK, I’ll go sulk in the yard. 

(Oh and for the record, he wasn’t at all traumatised at being forgotten. He appears to have talked the ears off the lady in the office, until she gave him a bulldog clip so that he could pretend it was a robot). 

So this is how I came to be blowing eggs - lots of them - at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. I remember my mother blowing eggs for me and this was the first time I had attempted it with my own brood (If you have never blown an egg and would like to try it, instructions can be found all over the web including here. There are more high tech ways to do it but lacking syringes and dremel whatsits I just stuck to the tried and true). 

By the time The Daddy arrived I was on the verge of hyperventilation, but we had a satisfying collection of colored eggs, painted eggs, crayoned eggs … and lots and lots of egg shells in the trash, thrown by the T-Bot against the concrete “to let the baby dinosaurs out”.  

And we were all, for a few moments, the picture of domestic bliss.