This weekend has been a singular disaster in terms of 'having a fun day out'. We were meant to visit a zoo or museum or something other than our living room, but we didn't. The children wanted to stay at home and play zingo (again). My husband wanted to stay at home and watch rugby. I wanted to hit the shops and spend wildly on my husband's credit card. Neither my husband or my children would let me do that.
At lunchtime today my cabin fever had hit an all time high so I convinced everyone that we should go out for lunch to ASK pizza. They have a three course kids meal with fun pack for £5.95 - more importantly, they have pizza for me and I don't have to cook or wash dishes.
I always believe that these excursions to restaurants will be fun. They seldom are. They usually involve a lot of stern whispering of 'sit down', 'don't shout', 'stop stabbing your brother with the knife' type of conversations.
This was no different. Son 2 has no idea about volume control and must shout everything he says. So I told him that we were secret agents and that everyone else in the restaurant were potential baddies who might overhear our secret plans unless he whispers. He then spent the rest of the lunch pointing at our neighbouring tables and shouting: 'Are they baddies mummy?'
What's more, ASK pizza Newbury is apparently staffed by people who donated their brains to a medical research facility. We got there at 1pm. We left at 4pm. Three hours in a pizza joint. With two kids. I could have whipped up the dough and made all the pizzas for the entire establishment in that time.
Anyway, despite my husband putting his angry eyes in with extra loud sighs thrown in for dramatic effect, the children were actually reasonable, thanks to playing eye spy and two little dickie birds on repeat cycle. It wasn't fun but we were surviving it.
Then the table next to us got up and the old gentlemen turned to our boys and said: 'You two were immaculately behaved. I think I'll send my grandson to come and live with your parents for a while so that he can learn some manners." (This despite him being labelled as chief baddie by son 2)
PREEN. Yes, we are indeed perfect parents. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. With two little angels who are the height of perfect children. Well done us.
If only the lovely gentleman knew the truth.... But I could have kissed him. I really could have.