My semi-weekly 'Christmas Day' has arrived!

Breakfast in bed is a welcome treat for any working mum, unless it is served fresh from the nostril of a three year old. But, not even a salty Wrigleys can prevent me from jumping out of bed with glee this morning, why it's Christmas morning. Well, it's just a exciting as Christmas, it's the beasts day at nursery, so from 8am to 6pm today, I will not be subjected to Sid Vicious' version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, demands for 'poo poo pie' and all the other interminable face-licking, cat-stealing, bogey-eating antics I encounter the other five days of the week.

We skip the 100 yards to the nursery, embarrassingly close, as I often (meaning always) turn up in a pyjama/puffa jacket/beanie/flip-flop ensemble (delete as seasonally applicable) with Rod Stewart inspired 'crazy hair', necessitating the aforementioned beanie. The nursery welcomes the first of the beast's two mothers. The wild eyed, dribbling Mrs Hyde drops him off on the way to terrorising the neighbourhood, and the casually dressed, mild-mannered Mrs Jekyll picks him up, serene and sated after productive days work, ready to take the reins of motherhood once more, obviously (and only) with the aid of a large G&T.