PAT McDERMOTT:

Children don’t come with instruction manuals, but their activities need planning a general would be proud of.

Pat takes charge of the kids

The instructions for picking up our granddaughter at day care are crystal clear. I won’t have any problems. 1. Front gate – pull knob UP and push the gate IN at the same time. 2. Use your CODE to open the main door. 3. Use your PIN to open inside gate. 4. See Miss Santos in the Red Tulip Room. Eleanor’s artwork will be wet. Or gluey. Maybe both.

5. Thanks! See you at home!

PS: Remember 15 minutes parking only. No time for chatting!

“Breaking into the White House sounds easier,” murmured the MOTH (Man of the House) from behind his newspaper.

I sail through Steps 1 and 2 but at Step 3 force of habit sees me tap in my bank PIN instead of the gate PIN! There’s a logjam of quietly frantic parents behind me. We’re all parked in 15 minute spaces. A supervisor smilingly clears the keypad.

“It’s like the Running of the Bulls,” he laughs. I realise he’s completely correct as I’m carried by the crowd to the Daffodil Room, the Marigold Room and finally, to the Red Tulip Room.

“She’s not really my mummy. She’s only my nanny,” Eleanor tells Miss Santos solemnly.

Then we’re off, a damp painting of a dragon flapping behind us. “There’s a note on your car, Nanny!” says Eleanor. I pocket the parking ticket and agree that yes, an ice-cream would be lovely, even though I think that a stiff gin and tonic would be much better.

At Eleanor’s house there’s a new chart on the kitchen wall, the days of the week across the top, tasks down the side, rewards at the bottom. 5 stars: Trampoline time.

10 stars: iPad time.

15 stars: Chose a television program. 20 stars: Chose a family activity – PUB NIGHT?

“Who wrote ‘Pub Night’ in big letters?” I ask.

“Daddy! Mummy says he needs a million trillion stars for his reward, so he has to not make a fuss and be good forever.”

I thought about the amazing wall chart I made for the MOTH many years ago. I had to be away for six weeks and he was “home alone” with five children aged five to 16 years. Twenty years ago this could get a bloke into the Guinness Book of Records.

“There are six columns with seven days in each,” I explained. “It’s cross-indexed and colour-coded.

“Things in red must be done. Things in green should be done but if you don’t do them we can live with the consequences. Some things are in both red (debating trials, soccer fundraiser) and in green (bring a plate).

“So we must go to the debating but I don’t need to bring a plate?” he guessed.

“Exactly. Brilliant!”

“But if I do bring a plate should there be something on it?”

Ignoring him, I pressed on.

“If something’s in green with red asterisks it’s your turn to pick up other kids. Remember! Always take OPK’s home afterwards!”

“OPKs?”

“Other People’s Kids!”

“Telephone numbers for the doctor, the fire brigade, the police and your mother are in red,” I droned, but by then he fallen asleep.

The chart is in a box with other treasures including emails, letters and postcards from my children.

Quite a few of these, but not all, begin, “Dear Mum, I’m okay but have run out of $$$$!”

The tiny, truthful details of family life are important, especially to mothers.