The head of house is away. Again.

I thought it would be OK, as I am used to his little visits to foreign places. In the past (B.HE - Before Home education) it was manic, but structured by school runs and meal times, and I had a window of time to collapse in a heap if I needed to when every one was at school. Even when it was OD at home it was fine, because she was busy and not much hassle.

Now though, oh how things have changed. The boys know. They know how badly they out number me, and how, with a bit of careful planning on their part, total anarchy can be achieved.

I do not help myself. I gave MB a bowl of bulgar wheat to play with today. I set it up the night before, dutiful mother that I am, and hid lots of small things within the large mixing bowl. I gave him a paint brush and told him to see what he could find. I thought it would give me a pocket of time with the older two and I could feel smug in a Montesorri kind of way.

The baby was in on it too. He filled his nappy three times in one hour. Whilst I was away from the table, changing the last nuclear fall out, EB got whispering to MB. Why bother with the piddly little paint brush at all? Why not just tip the whole lot over the table, then you will find all of the little things.

There was whooping. I knew immediately from this sound that things were not going to plan in the other room. It was the kind of whooping that means "we are doing really bad things." There was bulgar wheat every where, and as and added bonus, so too was a tube of pink glitter and a tube of tiny shiny stars both meant for the afternoon craft activity. They had found all of the little things in a rather big, un-montesorri manner.

So I did what any sensible person would never do. I took the boys to the library whilst OD did her drama. After they had beaten each other to a pulp a few times in front of a couple of other HE families (this included pinching each others bottoms and saying "oooh" in a very carry-on-matron kind of way.) I left. Just as I was getting the books stamped, MB socks EB a perfect upper cut, right in the kisser, and I want to do the same to him but manage a restrained "we are leaving now." When we get out of ear shot I tell them both how ashamed I am that they are my offspring. They don't care one bit.

The final peice de resistance happens at the dentist. The dentists are running late, and I can feel myself starting to sweat. In the name of swine flu they have removed every toy and magazine, giving the patient nothing to look at but a magnolia wall. We play a game of funny faces which goes down well, and I am just starting to think that may be they aren't so bad after all, when MB, who is sitting on my lap, forgets the words to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and says in a really loud but very squeaky and cheerful voice "I buggered that up, didn't I Mummy?"

When you come home headmaster, you had better bring me a bloody good present.