I know this make me sound older and even more hidebound than a character in PG Wodehouse but it was with great chagrin that I discovered today that my old school, or should I say, almer mater, has dropped the school motto: vincit veritas. I've found this motto a great deal of help to me over the years and in bad times ( when someone says my bottom looks big, or that they don't love me or want to fire me....) -well,' truth conquers' I say to myself shortly before the 'butch up and get on with it' internal speech. It's always worked well for me. Which is possibly why it was on my mind tonight when X tore the loo paper off the roll into a massive heap on the loo floor and then was adamant that Mr Nobody was responsible. It took three quarters of an hour of alternate naughty step, screaming and discussion to align on the fact that Mr Nobody was in fact little Miss X.
I was surprised I had the energy, to be honest (- well, I have to be honest now, don't I?) after the exhausting last week or so and there was a moment half way through when I thought that it was a bit silly getting so upset about the fact that Mr Nobody doesn't exist (and wasn't it me who suggested he existed in the first place?) But then she flung her arms around me and tried to muddy the water by saying she loved me and I had this vision of her in late teens doing exactly that to me to distract me from some much more serious issue and I just wanted to establish that truth is an important concept. Thank goodness she said 'me' to the twenty milllionth time I asked who did it.
She looked a bit surprised that one little 'me' was the magic answer that made mummy ok again. We went upstairs to have a bath together, peace restored.
" Mummy, you legs look really fat don't they," she said, as I climbed in the water.
Porky pies? No, sadly- it really is truly, honestly- porky thighs.