198. Back home! (2/3)

Two days to go. And the multi-purpose room has not yet been turned back into Miss Organiser's bedroom.

My kids are right. I must be the worst mum in the world.

Action! I shout to myself, punching the air. Then I quickly decide it is better if I make myself a cup of coffee. Springing into action too suddenly can seriously damage your health.

When the coffee is made I have to drink it. Slowly. Drinking coffee too quickly can seriously damage your health.

Then I wash the cup. Dry it. And when I cannot find any more reasonable excuses I - reluctantly - head up the stairs.

I am met with the huge case. It just sits there in the middle of her tiny bedroom, looking at me like some stranded mythical beach creature, a marooned Jabba the Hutt,  wrapped up in yellow tape, covered in stickers, in forms stamped and slid inside see-through pocket then glued to the plastic, neon tags with black menacing lettering all over them. It looks daunting. It says: 'Are you trying to smuggle something?' and 'Has your mama paid all the customs charges?"

I kick the lid open, not wanting to touch it, just in case it bites back. The lid meets the carpet with a dull thud. 

Beep. 

That's my phone! Hooray! I have an excuse to back off from Jabba and retreat to the safe corridor zone. I look at the screen and am surprised to see it is a message from Miss Organiser herself. 

'Can I have chouquettes?'

...

She wants chouquettes. I approve of the choice, these are delicious soft tiny choux with no cream in them. Still, she has not even left yet and she is already sending in her orders! Over WhatsApp and across an ocean. 

'We'll see.'

This is a perfectly non-committal answer. I put the phone back on the floor and go back to the task in hand. 

In no time I'll get this done: it is easy enough to put the clothing items in the cupboard and the non-clothing items on the desk. I am surprised to see there is even a book. A paperback. Only one but still. And no, not a classic. Still, a book! I am thrilled. 

Beep

'Can dad do BBQ?'

'We'll see.' The copy and paste option is proving useful.

Beep. Beep. 

'Tarte à la rhubarbe.'

'Avocados.'

I cannot believe she is planning an entire menu for her welcome home dinner! I am nearly done with the case. The wardrobe is now full to the brim. I am holding one of the last items I'd left on the bed because whichever way I held it I couldn't work out whether it was a top or a skirt. I finally managed to place it on a coat hanger and it does not look too bad. It must be a top. 

Beep.

'Foie gras.'

She may as well send me the menu and the shopping list! I decide it is better to let her get away with it, in fact if I stick to the menu this will turn me into a grade A mother. I decide to leave the hoover for now and to head back downstairs ready to go shopping. After all I need the make the most of the family car while I still can!