I was cooking dinner. A pan on the stove, filled with pasta, was boiling away.
Little Miss hollered from the bathroom, needing help with, you know.
I'm upstairs in the bathroom when the Duke came up saying, 'Mummy, I put the spoon in!'
'You put the spoon in?' What spoon?
'Yes! he said, pleased as punch.
'In where?'
'In tea!'
'In tea?'
'Yes!'
I wandered down the stairs wondering what on earth the little man was on about... As I turn the corner into the kitchen I see it: his small red chair on the floor next to the stove, the cutlery drawer open, and a wooden spoon in the boiling pot of pasta.
At that moment 17 grey hairs poked their way out of my scalp, several wrinkles were born on my forehead, and my heart, my poor heart, skipped a thousand beats.
Duke got a stern telling off, of course.
But it was heartbreaking; his little face fell a mile and he burst into tears – he thought he had been helping me.
Life lessons, I guess, life lessons...
