End of the party

It’s the dog days of the summer holidays, it’s raining and I’ve run out of money so I’m down to spring cleaning the girls’ rooms. Yesterday it was rebel daughter’s turn. However, doing a 60-minute makeover on a child’s room with a baby in a baby carrier is no easy task. Particularly since the two youngest daughters keep appearing in various outfits and make-up combinations and doing poses. I think I may have overdone my enthusiasm for America’s Next Top Model. Both appeared at one point with zombie eyes surrounded by make-up. Bonkers daughter was in a large pink hat, a denim dress which is about four years too short for her and cowboy boots. Big girl daughter was in a wedding dress.

The day was spent variously watching the model show, encouraging rebel daughter off Moshi Monsters by updating her anti-pink.com content [last updated about a year ago], watching the guinea pigs making war noises at each other, painting paper false nails with nail varnish [courtesy of bonkers daughter], painting everyone’s toe nails different colours and playing schools. I was just finishing off the room cleaning when bonkers and big girl daughters skipped into the room singing. They then proceeded to act out the entire Wizard of Oz story, with both of them playing the part of Dorothy. They slightly altered the end, though, preferring to return to Oz than stay with boring old Auntie Em [apparently this was me].

When my partner arrives he feels like he is entering some sort of surreal drama. The day before I had been in London visiting work with the baby, who was at his most smiley [he may not like cars, but, showing an early interest in environmentalism, he apparently loves the tube]. It is quite odd emerging from the twilight world of childhood into the hard, cold light of a working metropolis.