I felt a bit like Old Mother Hubbard at one stage last week.
It had nothing to do with going to the cupboard to get my poor dog a bone, but lots to do with going out and coming in to a very changeable child.
Katianna had some horrendous holiday homework to complete, and went to our office to print it out, but found no ink in the cartridge.
So, wanting the assignment finalised, I dashed out and returned at speed, only to find that my fifteen year old had moved on to her sewing project and now desperately needed an 18 centimetre zip.
With the engine still running and a pressing desire for her to finish the shoulder bag and clear up the disturbance spread across my dining room table, I accomplished the round trip again.
On my return from the zip seeking mission, I found my daughter, while unable to progress without the fastener - had decided to undertake a crocheting creation.
But I needed the right sized hook.
As another daughter was in need of costume items for the upcoming college musical – one in white and a matching one in any colour, I tossed said offspring into the passenger seat and hit the road again.
Crochet hook in hand and selection of a very entertaining lace-up top in white and green a success, I was astounded to discover at home that rather than smoking a pipe in the chair like Mother Hubbard’s pet, my eldest daughter was reading a novel in her beanbag.
Knowing Katianna had to go out to work in the evening, I took pity on her collapsed composure and ravenous appetite and ran to the supermarket for some fresh vegetables.
Mother Hubbard went to the fruiterers to buy some fruit and when she came back found her dog playing the flute.
Unlike her, I found Katianna playing the piano.
She was counting sleeps until her next lesson and found there weren’t enough.
My never ending round trips did not discover Katianna riding a goat or standing on her head.
But the ‘dancing a jig’ box was definitely ticked.
So I made a curtsy and she made a bow.
I said, ‘Your servant”
And she said, “What now?”