This morning, I woke up half an hour early, organised breakfasts, made school lunches and folded laundry. Feeling unusually ahead of my game and positive about the day ahead, I went to wake the kids. Mary Poppins-like, I woke the kids with smiles and kisses (everything short of scampering animated squirrels, I kid you not).
They, in turn took a hundred years (not exaggerating, this is totally accurate) to do every. tiny. task. I gently reminded the little sweethearts to brush their teeth. I implored them to get dressed. I politely enquired how on earth dancing on the bed in underwear qualified as getting ready for school. I firmly stated that it was time to stop playing games and get ready, already.
I tried hard not to nag, really I did, but I just couldn’t help myself. I nagged about the teeth, the beds, the shoes, the hair, the naked dancing until eventually, the little darlings succeeded in cracking the code to the vault where the Screaming Banshee is kept.
The Screaming Banshee, once unleashed, tied Mary Poppins up and locked her in the vault, then proceeded to have a series of unattractive tiny tantrums all over the house.
The children, unmoved, continued to move at snail’s pace. (Note: I’ve since discovered that children cannot actually hear the Screaming Banshee – when she follows them shrieking, they only hear “Wah wah wah”.) The Screaming Banshee continued her tirade until, disgusted by her impotence, she eventually vanished (undramatically and with a sob).
She was replaced by a The Zombie, who managed (just) to get the kids (still unmoved) to school on time.
The whereabouts of Mary Poppins are still unknown. I will keep you updated. In the meantime, sorry. You’re stuck with The Zombie.