mothers on the verge

We've been a bit concerned over the past couple of days here at Chateau On The Verge. Large numbers of strange animal droppings have been sighted in tidy heaps behind the barn. Could we have foxes? Wild dogs maybe? It's been quite a puzzle. We mused on the problem over several glasses of wine. Set up a watch at night to catch the culprits. All to no avail. Not a whisper, not a sighting of a bushy fox tail or anything else except the usual squeaking of bats and rustlings of hedgehogs. Not a whisper, that is, until I walked around the barn in search of the feral child pack to discover the two smaller ones with their pants off, squatting, fresh loo roll on the grass between them. When asked why they were committing such a heinous act, they responded, "Because we're dogs, of course." Dogs? Using loo paper? The world must surely be coming to an end.

B*llocks to all that special parent-child one-on-one time nonsense. All children really want during the summer holidays are a brace of cousins to go crazy with (and to egg on to even greater forms of uncivilised behaviour) and a posse of slaves to deliver approved snacks (chocolate, ice-cream, biscuits, nothing green) on the hour, every hour. Examples of uncivilised behaviour experienced at Chateau On The Verge this summer: 1) Two of said brace discovering my fake tan supply and applying it liberally. Firstborn is still sporting a fine pair of orange eyebrows. 2) Fighting with large sticks. 'Nuff said. 3) Pulling all my clothes from their hangers and using them to make a nest in the bottom of the wardrobe. My Marc Jacobs sundress will never look the same again. 4) The utterance of "You're not in my club" and "You're a stupid-head" by one of the cousins (whoever happens to be at the top of the pecking order at the time), followed by outraged bellowing fro...