It was about five minutes into the dinner that all hell broke loose like a sloppy nappy after raisins and prune juice. Now, normally I’m pretty sharp on the discipline and can maintain some semblance of control, but I have to confess that they completely get the better of me this time . . . it was as though the scene unfolded before my eyes like a slow motion surround sound purgatory that I was unable to escape or influence in any way . . . In no particular order and without specifically shaming out which of my children was responsible for which transgression . . . the following was my dinner nightmare: • A plastic knife and fork were being used as drama props
first they served as a Charlie Chaplain mustache, then reindeer antlers, and finally something pushed under his shirt that looked an awful lot like a Dolly Parton’s more pronounced features.