
It's not only civilians that shudder when they think of Monday. Legions of Mums are shuddering, bracing themselves, pulling the covers over their heads, fronting up to the fact that it's the start of a fresh new week.
On paper, Monday looks exciting. It's a blank week full of potential (or alternatively, it's crammed full of playdates, lunch-packing, babysitter finding, preschool volunteering, and general meal-planning mayhem).
But the reality of Monday? The reality of Monday is ugly. Plain ugly.
Especially so after such a ridiculously glorious (yes, I did just use the word GLORIOUS) weekend full of sunshine. A brief flirtation with Spring that has continued today while I've been sitting outside knitting (yes I am still going on the world's slowest scarf).
We went to the park today - the Doctor didn't want to go. He wanted to (surprise, surprise) stay home and Lego 'til the cows came home. Tiny on the other hand was champing at the bit. We went to the park, the Doctor had fun, and came back running to me to tell me a magpie had tried to poop on his head. I was a little unsure about this, and then he came back and told me again (having a major giggle-fest about it) that this bird was again trying to poop on his head. I came over to watch - and sure enough, if Spring feels as though it has sprung for us, nature is feeling it too. That magpie was not trying to poop on him (how many birds do precision poop diving?), he was trying to swoop him. Thankfully he didn't get close enough to the Doctor and the Doctor was fully helmeted up.
Then the smalls saw some kids rolling down the hill. They thought they'd give it a whirl too. With hilarious results. Rolling the wrong way, half rolling in half downward dog poses. Oh man, I wish I had a camera with me. Then it was all over in a flash because the Doctor was soaked to the core in dew.
We made a quick park exit and he took off all his clothes before getting into the car. Like travelling in his undies. Like he was Borat. Actually, it was just undies and socks. Like he was Tom Cruise. Being a mum is Risky Business.
And so we came home to have lunch and both the kids were meant to have a sleep. Meant to. But they both didn't make it. Now they're discovering toys in boxes that haven't been unpacked since we moved and chanting that they want chocolate.
Roll on Tuesday. Pronto.