Janet Christie: “I’m sorry I have to pay a mortgage and buy food”

Youngest Child’s latest tactic is locking herself in the bathroom. We’re late for school. Very. Apparently I was “snappy”.

Well, bare legs when it’s Baltic, what kind of parenting is that? Watching her roll down her cosy white knee socks to ankle height, as she does every morning, drew a sarky comment.

“I hate tights!” she roars through the frosted glass-panelled door. “I hate the gusset!”

“So wear trousers!” I bellow back.

“I hate trousers! I LIKE BARE LEGS! I’M NOT COLD!”

“OK, have bare legs. Freeze. But don’t come running to me when they go corned beef red raw and sting when the hail hits them.”

“I won’t ’cos you’ll be at work. Where you always are. What beef?”

The absent (working) mother argument. A low blow.

“I’m sorry I have to pay a mortgage and buy food and Highland dancing shoes and adopt bloody puppies online.”

I soften my tone. “Come out now. We are beyond late. Please.” (I hate begging.)

“No. I’m still angry.”

“Right. I’m getting the hammer. Stand at the other end of the room.” I rummage in the tool box.

A quiet click. “Right, let’s go. We’re late,” she says.

Aw. I was looking forward to that.