Dinner conversation tonight with The Girl:
“Mummy you’re going to work tomorrow?”
“Mummy, do you love work?”
“Erm, well I like work, and it’s important that I do work.”
“Mummy which do you love more, work or me?”
“Hands down you, easiest question ever, definitely you.”
“Well then why can’t we stay at home together tomorrow instead?”
And with that, all my composure and pretence of taking things in my stride has gone. I’m broken. Officially broken.
No one ask me if I’m feeling ok tomorrow.
I will definitely cry.
Whilst being very British about it and answering “I’m fine, I’m fine” and desperately searching for the nearest loo to weep in…