328. Going mad (2)

 All was going according to plan. I had this great feeling about the new year. It had started with a bang. Literally. But then we incredibly got all the keys back and it felt like a miracle had happened. I was happy cracking open the Champagne on my own. This is one of my secret pleasures: as in a classic movie, walk to the fridge, open the door, get the glass ready, pop goes the cork, fizz goes the liquid, golden and sparkly in the clear glass and guzzle goes the woman (me).

Yet January is not over and everything has toppled over like the towers the kids used to build out of tiny wooden planks. And my life is scattered around on the floor. The kids used to scream with delight when the towers collapsed, I’m not.

As my husband and I leave to walk the dog I call Baby.

‘ Please come downstairs to watch the food.’

I am wondering if she’ll know that it’s not really about dinner but more about someone being downstairs to greet the unwelcome visitor. Which makes me the worst mother ever.

‘Oh! What’s this golf club doing here?’ I say to no one in particular, looking unbothered as I fiddle with the leaf from a plant.

Baby sighs and rolls her eyes.

‘Just go mum! Please go!’

I put my woolly hat on, my boots and close the outside corridor door behind me. I can hear Baby’s relief through the door.

‘ Police number is 17. Ok’

‘MUM! JUST GO, WILL YOU!’

‘And … erm … there’s just this random golf club here.’

Baby is getting seriously angry now so we leave with the dog.