Yesterday, when we had the homework done, the lunchboxes in the dishwasher, the dinner planned and all children were sitting quietly, bathed in light from a screen, whether TV, laptop, Xbox or Nintendo ds, I felt a desperate craving for chocolate. Visceral I think it was, although I really should look that up in the dictionary before I use it. Even though I was sworn off afternoon treats after overdosing on reduced price Lindt reindeer after Christmas, I decided to give in and indulge myself. However, because of this self imposed ban, our cupboards were bare. There were no six packs of Kitkats, no biscuits, no hidden Aeros, not even any Maltesers left over from cinema trips.
And so, that is how I found myself on my hands and knees on a bedroom floor, sifting through Lego, peering under shelves and rifling through old shoe boxes full of Bakugan cards, searching for a Flake. My eldest, in an unprecedented display of generosity had agreed to let me have the bar he had saved from his Christmas selection box. But it was nowhere to be found. Difficult as it was to restrain myself from grapping him by the collar of his school shirt, foaming at the mouth and screaming “where is it? WHERE IS IT?”, I managed.
I did sit on my shaking chocolate addicted hands and ask him to think VERY carefully about when he had last seen it but the answer was vague. “I think it was beside my bed. No. No it’s definitely not there. Maybe on a window sill?”
And when I gave up searching and stomped downstairs muttering that I just couldn’t find it, he didn’t even bother to look up from his book as he said “Tough. You’ll just have to do without.”
Which I suppose gave me a tiny taste of what it is like to have me as a mother.