One of those mornings.
All the little jobs seem to take a little longer. Socks need to be turned the right way out before being put on.
It takes three tries to put three yoghurts in three lunchboxes.
But spirits are high, songs are sung and we're finally only one light jacket away from getting out the door.
'Mammy! He's standing on the chair! He's WEEING ON THE CHAIR!'
No worries. I've got this. I swing into action, calling out directions like an ER doctor in her element.
'Little One, come with me!
Little Lady, sing songs to Littlest so he doesn't get bored while we sort this out.
Little Man, we need pants, trousers, socks and shoes. Bring them straight to the bathroom please!'
Honestly, I only just stopped myself from shouting out 'Stat!'
And in a flurry of activity we were done. A clean, dry superhero was ready for another day of preschool.
'Great teamwork,' I told them as we trotted along to school, 'we're not even too late after all that help!'
I wished them luck with spelling tests and dispatched many kisses and hugs. Little One trotted happily in to his friends and Littlest and I headed for home.
A quick tower built, a book read, and a load of washing into the machine. And finally, time for a coffee. Content with another good morning, I savoured it. Sitting comfortably, chatting with Littlest who was practicing standing up and sitting down by my feet. 'If I were trendy,' I thought, 'I'd probably consider this a moment of hygge. Still, my cup is empty and there are other things to be getting on with.'
I stood.
And yes, it was at that moment I realised what had happened.
I sat in the wee.
I'm pretty sure George Clooney never had to deal with this!
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