Me, bitter about ‘sweetie fairy’ mum’s about-turn?
“They’re on a sweetie hunt,” my mum explained as the children raced around her house, upending tables, cushions and chairs.
“The sweetie fairy’s been,” Emma shouted to further elaborate.
Although familiar with the tooth fairy, Father Christmas and the little elf figure, the sweetie fairy was a new addition to the gang.
After another few minutes of frantic searching, my parent’s house looked like it’d been comprehensively ransacked by a gang of impolite burglars.
Finally, I found Emma and Thomas sitting on the floor, chewing their way through their bounty and decided to investigate how long this phenomenon had been occurring.
For ever was the answer and since I chose staying at the grandparents as my chance to sleep until 7.30am, I’d been completely unaware since it took place before I was up.
Until today, when the sweetie fairy had discovered she’d run out and had to send her accomplice (my dad) out to the shop.
Even though I didn’t want to spoil the fun, I lightly questioned the sweetie fairy as to whether flavoured sugar was the best way for six-year-olds to start their day.
This mythical creature was diligently arranging an array of chocolate-based cereals and pastries for the children to choose from after they’d finished with their sweets. After a brief discussion, the sweetie fairy decided, “it won’t do them any harm”.
It was indeed a magical transformation given this was the same person who would point me and my brother to the fruit bowl if we demanded anything sweet.
The twins interrupted our discussion asking for pain au chocolat. My mum explained they’d run out but she’d melt some chocolate and they could dip a croissant in the gooey mixture. I’m not easy to shock, but I was genuinely amazed by a few things here. Firstly, they know what a pain au chocolat is. I was at least a teenager before I’d discovered you could legitimately eat chocolate and pastry for breakfast. Secondly, although getting on, my mother retained her ingenuity for preparing a meal.
And finally, the idea she’d melt a bar of chocolate for breakfast was almost as incredible as the creation of the sweetie fairy.
“Or you could have Weetabix,” I offered in a bid to limit the damage of eating chocolate, buttery pastry and sweets for breakfast.
Unsurprisingly, the children didn’t even acknowledge me or my healthy offer.
At this point, I decided to leave her to it, and fondly remember my gran bringing me Custard Creams and a cup of tea in bed for breakfast, safe in the knowledge it didn’t do me any harm.
This was the same person who would point me and my brother to the fruit bowl if we demanded anything sweet.