Smug bastard

This afternoon my husband announces the kids are having an omelette for supper and I'm cooking it. "Why?"  asks my daughter.  My thoughts exactly as I sat back on the sofa reading my pile of ancient Sunday Times magazines which I was finally making some inroads with.  "Because we have to let mama think there are some things she makes better than dada does," came his reply.  "But you're a chef dada, I would think you'd know how to make an omelette.  You're supposed to know how to make everything," interjects my wise and wonderful daughter.  That put the smug bastard in his place!

Twenty minutes later, I promised to fix a new toy which my son had just received for Easter and had inadvertently broken.  This bearing in mind that a bag of toys and various other odds and ends which need mending or gluing has sat in my storeroom awaiting my attention for almost a year!  Anyway, this latest addition to my pile I intended to fix right away as it was a fairly simple job and the poor thing had only acquired it an hour earlier.  As usual my son brought me the offending item while I was trying to have a sneaky five minute read on the loo.  Normally I would have admonished him and sent him packing, but I couldn't resist the tears in his eyes and the quivering lip to boot.  I had to hug him and promise to fix it as soon as I was done.  Ah, there is a soft side to me after  all!

My five minutes up, I realise that it's late and I'm supposed to be preparing their supper, so I get stuck in.  "Hey!" I hear a tiny voice behind me say, "you meant to be fixing my stethoscope."  "Sorry my love, I got distracted."  "You always get distracted ....always, always," pipes up my daughter.  "Doesn't she dada, doesn't she?"  "Yes, she does" says their father sniggering gleefully.  The smug bastard gets even!

By Mummy Dearest