And so I counted…
He who helped create them scowled at me, his impatience with my impatience clearly showing on his usually handsome face.
I turned to the source of my growing anger.
There she stood, small tears dripping from her chin, face contorted with anguish.
“But mummy” her small voice shook “I can’t go to school like this”
I looked at my first born child and ran through a mental checklist.
Shoes were shined, the holes in her tights hidden by pressed pleated skirt, jumper on straight stained with only a hint of toothpaste.
I raised my eyes and saw my failings. Because growing out of the back of twin girls head was a lump, a lump that stretched down her back and was fighting with other similar sized lumps.
It was obviously a mess and a mess that had a bright blue band attached at the end to ensure it was unmissable.
I pulled twin girl towards me and we wept together at my incompetence.
My anger at my own inability started to dissipate and twin girls sobs began to cease.
It seems when other mums were at plaiting school I may well have been out drinking gin. Whilst my nimble fingers can mix a mean sloe gin sling then remain firmly impotent when it comes to braiding three sections of hair together in a way acceptable to a five year old child.
But can I say Twin girls bunches looked lovely today.