There is little that I would not do for my children.
I would scale bridges if it shielded them from harm...
I would hurl myself from an aeroplane...
Climb to the highest tree tops...
Wrestle warriors...
And battle freezing rapids...
I would even, if it came to it, endure public humiliation...
My children, alas, are less resolute and both balk at overcoming fearsome challenges for my sake.
My son is powerless to take on the chaos in his bedroom...
My daughter flees in the face of the washing up...
And neither has the stamina to confront a vegetable...
But today... weeks of sleepnessness have shrunk my temper. The cats flee before me and the Vicar, wounded by unaccustomed sharpness, seeks refuge in his study. I berate the children for their failings and shut myself in the sitting room for a sulk. As the door inches open I ready myself for battle. And in come two wary figures. One drapes me in a blanket. The other proffers a teddy. They have advanced where grown men have feared to tread. I guess I can call it quits!
Apologies to everyone who kindly left comments. I managed to delete the original blogpost and can't recover your much appreciated wisdom.
