Five Oatmeal Men please!

Monday, August 4 08

“I can’t believe we’re in week three of the summer holidays already. I can do this, I will survive and I won’t be pulling out any more grey hairs by September,” Mrs Bennet confessed. She had been quite perturbed to discover a few appearing round her ears. The trouble was having dark hair meant they showed up more. Although having said that at the hairdressers the other day, the bubbly stylist cutting Miss Naomi Bennet’s hair, had presented her with a white hair.

“This is your daughter’s first grey hair,” she exclaimed. It certainly made Mrs Bennet feel better, but she did hope that was the last one for at least 20 years for her daughter’s sake. Thirty nine was acceptable, eight was not.

Mrs Bennet learnt a valuable lesson today – not to tell the children EXACTLY what they were doing, because inevitably this could all change. As it did this morning. The Bennet brood were supposed to meeting friends in the park, but as she was about to leave, thought she better check with her girl friend it was still on. It was just as well as they were driving up north and wouldn’t be back until Wednesday. Mrs Bennet would have been waiting at the park a long time! Unfortunately she had told the little Bennets this was where they were going, but thankfully the overcast clouds darkened in her favour and helped persuade them it was a better idea to go to a supermarket to hunt for suitable camp food.

That and a promise to buy a bucket to match their spades and a magazine each.

“I can’t ever remember getting my mum to do such things. I was content with making a den out of an old sheet and mum’s old clothes rack. Am I such a mug?” she thought. “Probably. But I did promise them a bucket last week and I do need a coffee.”

Ordering three iced buns, because you got three for a pound, and two oatmeal men for the twins, she sat down and enjoyed Mr Latte. It wasn’t quite the same sharing him with her children – he was supposed to be savoured alone – but at least she was sitting down momentarily.

The twins were happily munching their men. Miss Rosie Bennet devoured the head first, Miss Kezia Bennet tackled the legs and somehow managed to split hers in two.

Mrs Bennet smiled. If only it could be that easy! If she could just buy five oatmeal men for her five daughters at 10 pence each! The little Miss Bennets could of course have the choice of a cinnamon or chocolate man as well or if they could afford it a gingerbread one.

“I wonder what men they will choose when it comes to it?” she pondered as she watched them enjoying their ice-buns and mini men.

“A Mr Peely Wally, a Mr Latte or if they’re fortunate a dishy Mr Darcy, although I don’t like his moody attitude at times,” she decided, “but I suppose he does grow on you.”

A sudden desire to visit the little girl’s room by one of her offspring had a domino effect. The other two girls decided they too needed it. So leaving the twin Bennets to chomp the remaining parts of their edible men with her own mum looking after them, she escorted the others to their destination.

“We’re going to get through a supermarket full of toilet rolls in the coming years and I dread to think how many sanitary towels!” Mrs Bennet thought to herself.

Twenty minutes later the Bennet “pink” were lined up at the check-out, armed with two buckets, two magazines, a tin of spaghetti hoops and a tin of spaghetti castles and Princesses. Not content to share one bucket with her sisters, Miss Naomi Bennet wanted one to herself and traded in her magazine for a green bucket. Mrs Bennet realised this wouldn’t be the last diplomatic negotiation she would have to make. If only bringing up her daughters could be as easy as buying a handful of oatmeal men!