'Mommy, my pants keep slipping down!' or 'Today we have to take a Spanish speaking alien to school, that's wearing yellow pants and a bright green sweater. And he should't be any taller than thirty centimeters, my teacher said!'
Then I rant and rave for a while telling them they should have told me sooner. Because where am I gonna find a belt to hold up those stupid pants, or an alien?! I'm not of course. At best I might manage the alien.
This week I thought I was safe, and there would be no unpleasant surprises. I'd stayed up every night studying all the letters from school, and did everything they asked me to. So for days, bags were dangling from the banister, containing decorations for the kids, to make Christmas wreaths at school.
But this morning, just as I had strapped all the kids into their car seats, my daughter Susan screamed: 'Mommy, we have to bring green leaves and stuff for the wreaths!'
'Oh no! Couldn't you have told me sooner?'
'I'd forgotten,' Susan whimpered.
'And mommy was being so good, preparing all the bags and hanging them on the banister!'
'And I found those, mommy!' and she pointed at the couch where the three bags were waiting patiently.
I had to do something, so I quickly tied a bandana around my head, grabbed a knife from the dishwasher, put it in my mouth in Rambo style and ran out into the garden. I hacked some leaves and twigs from the bushes and cursed myself for not having anything more christmassy.
'Here kids,' I shouted and threw heavily bleeding twigs into their bags.
You reap what you sow, and tonight I'll be sowing some very ugly Christmas wreaths...