I am not winning at this parenting lark.
My plans to be organised and all that jazz are failing on an epic scale; and we woke up this morning at 6am to a fridge containing nothing I could make breakfast out of.
No bread, minimal milk, no cereal. Not even a cheeky egg or lone sausage to concoct a cooked breakfast.
Ah. Feck.
My next plan was a swift drive through at my local golden arches.
Then I remembered hubs has the car.
Damn.
There was nothing for it; we would have to get dressed and do a mad dash to the supermarket.
As usual the mancub was immaculately dressed and looked awesome.
Me? I had hair so greasy it didn’t require a hairband to tie it back. I think I was wearing a little of yesterdays makeup and my leggings had a mysterious looking stain that I hoped and assumed was chocolate.
We were there and back by half eight and I guess the bacon sandwiches were a nice reward.
Note to self: always keep an emergency loaf in the freezer.
(AKA Mother of the Year 2017)
