Morning of Madness and Mayhem

Morning arrived with its usual mayhem, he who helped create them slid silently out of the door at seven am, just before the crazy began.

Twin boy appeared first by my bed, fully clothed in yesterday garb, ready to play from dusk till dawn.

“I’m hungry.” He remarked, not even caring that I was still asleep.

Then the siren started,

“Mummy, I need a wee wee.”

Like a sprinter out of the blocks, I catapulted from sleep, into a dressing gown, flew into BB’s room, lifted up her nightie and deposited her on the cold porcelain.  Disaster averted, I smiled to the sound of tinkling on water.

And then I was up, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to join in the chaos.

Breakfast was ordered.  For twin girl warm bread, with a mere scraping of butter.  For twin boy, cheerios, with half a piece of pitta.  For BB a yogurt and a request for Dairy Milk.  The request was ignored, the pleas continued.

Whilst preparing breakfast for three, making a cup of tea that would properly be ignored, injecting the diabetic one in her backside with two doses of insulin, the house grew steadily louder.  A knife clattered on to the floor, spreading jam up the walls, a child screamed in annoyance and the dog chased its tail madly in the corner.  I tried to pour water in a tea cup over an abandoned hypodermic needle whilst throwing milk on cheerios and slicing up a piece of pitta.

I passed a yogurt to BB, who promptly asked for chocolate.

The request was ignored.

Twin boy clocked the yogurt and thoughts of pitta bread and cheerios were promptly abandoned. “I want that,” he pointed.

“It’s the last one.”

“Nooooooo,” he tumbled to the floor, rolling in jam, holding his heart in bitter anguish at the loss of a yogurt to his little sister.

“But, I love them, I. Love. Them, I need calcium, I have to have it, now.”

My tea continued to cool, the lack of caffeine in my system left me vulnerable.

“No, it is hers.” I countered with tension tainting my voice.

“It is because you love her more isn’t it.” he tantrumed, still rolling in jam, now with the dog jumping aside him, licking off the treat.

The house began to swell with noise.

“For God’s sake child,” I argued (loudly) “eat the cheerios you asked for.”

The suddenly a small voice spoke out.

“Owen, you can share it with me.” muttered BB, her halo slipping slightly as she pushed her prize yogurt towards her bellowing brother.

Silence fell upon the kitchen, the dog ceased to pace, the boy climbed back on to his chair. I wiped the jam from the floor.

I silently patted myself on the back for raising such a serene, delightful, girl.  I turned to my son, determined to make an example of her generosity and humility.

“See, how lovely she is, what lesson has you learnt today?”

Twin Boy glared at me, yogurt dripping from his chin.

“I’ve learnt Mummy, that if you shout and scream you can pretty much get anything you want.”

Still waiting for that Parent of the Year Award.