Privacy? Don't Make Me Laugh

'Arghhhh she's ruining my game!  Mum!  Mum!  She's ruining it!'

Oh God.  Why can't they leave me alone for two minutes.

'She's pulling my hair.  Mum!'

Well that's because you asked for four pigtails this morning and it looks a little strange.

'Wahhhhhhhhhh' (loosely translated as 'now she's pulled my hair').

'Oh please, they're not real tears. Please go back in the family room'.

Momentary silence, followed by scuffling and muffled screams.

'Don't make me come out there!'

Empty threat, I'm a little preoccupied and have no intention of going out there.

The door opens and the four year old comes in, tears streaming down her face. 

'I broke my game. I folded it the wrong way'.

'Don't worry, I'll fix it.'

I am left holding what used to be a Disney Princess Snakes and Ladders boardgame.  Hang on.

'I can't find the sticky tape Mum'.

'Not NOW!  I'm busy.  I will fix it later.  Come back here and get the game please'.

What wouldn't I do for five minutes to myself. 

A hand appears around the edge of the door, waving a biscuit.

'Can I have a cookie Mum?'

'Yes, now go away.  No wait, come back here and close the door please'.

I'm getting a headache.  I'm sure of it.

'Make sure you give one to your sister', I yell.  I don't need her coming in here too.

Silence.

I sit with my head in my hands for a minute.

Then I stand up and flush the loo.

I walk out to the family room where the girls are eating biscuits and playing with the broken halves of the board game.

'Look Mum, she's happy now'.

Me too girls.  Me too.