The “But Mummy I have to have it now” syndrome

Monday, September 21 ‘09

Having felt a deep sense of achievement in watching the eldest Miss Bennet get dressed, fed, hair and teeth brushed without so much as a repeat request, Mrs Bennet felt somewhat relaxed as she encouraged her flock to round up ready for the morning exit. A check list on Miss Bennet Number One’s desk with a tick box next to each simple instruction including get up, get dressed, put on clean white socks and so on; seemed to do the trick. The pre-teen happily ticked her boxes.
All was going too smoothly. Miss Bennet Number Two was voluntarily popping up toast and taking orders from her siblings; twins Spag and Bol were chuckling over a private joke which involved a couple of plastic play people and Mrs Bennet was ahead with the pigtail ritual. At eight o’clock, she was two heads down, three to go. She was dressed, had every book bag, shoe and lunch box, lined up in military precision at the boarding gate. And so far, nothing had been removed from a wandering Spag or Bol.
Thirty five minutes later three little school girls suddenly remember they have to take something really important into class and it must be today. The morning army camp had no room in its schedule for forgotten items, so peace was soon quickly escaping out the front door, instead of the six bodies inside.
“Mummy, I need to have a photo of me as a baby. We’re looking at growth today. Can you get me one so I can take it in?” cried an innocent five-year-old, oblivious of her mother’s rising stress levels.
“And you haven’t got my Indian top and trousers from the dressing up bag Mummy, and I wanted to take it today,” remembered the elder Miss Bennet who was studying Indian culture and custom at school.
“Oh, and I need a piece of fruit to take so we can paint it in art this morning. It has to be unusual and I don’t want anything we have got here, they’re all too boring,” chipped in Miss Bennet number three.
“Great,” thought Mrs Bennet, frantically trying to remember where Megan’s baby photo was and had they got time to nip into a shop and buy a quirky fruit?
Baby photo sorted, the flock was allowed beyond the fence; the shepherd following, guiding them with her spoken rod. Thankfully as Miss Bennet Number One had followed her check list to the tee, there were five valuable minutes spare – just enough time for Mrs Bennet to pull up outside her favourite supermarket, rush in and buy two coconuts for a £1. As she hadn’t managed to retrieve the Indian outfit from the dust heap under Mr Bennet’s side of the bed, she handed Miss Bennet Number One the other coconut. She too was studying the compositions and different shapes within a still life, so Mrs Bennet’s bunch of coconuts was the hit of the morning.
Once the three older sheep were safely in green uniform pastures and Spag and Bol were securely strapped in the Scooby Doo van, Mrs Bennet slumped over the steering wheel relieved the morning scrum was over. She glanced in the driver’s mirror. Make-up was smeared like war paint all over her left cheek. She hadn’t had chance to do a bathroom check in the rush to leave the house. No one but no one in the playground had said anything about her ridiculous look. Or was it because she always looked like that first thing in the morning?