There are three words that turn any parent to drink.
World. Book. Day.
Oh my fucking god.
This is more stressful than being stopped by customs at the airport or trying to time contractions.
I like books. I love books. I’m writing one for fuck’s sake.
But this is tough.
I thought we had a box full of dressing up clothes, but it turns out both kids have grown out of everything apart from the Christmas elf costumes.
YOU CAN’T GO TO SCHOOL IN MARCH DRESSED AS A FUCKING ELF.
Mildred from The Worst Witch. That’s got to be easy.
Just a witch’s hat and a school uniform.
No actually. IT'S NOT.
It turns out she has stripy tights and tie, and those accessories are ESSENTIAL to a seven year old, or no-one will know who she is.
So I turn to Amazon.
Yep. Found them. High five me- parenting the shit out of this.
But no. Hang on, they can’t deliver until Friday.
Friday? FRIDAY? ARE YOU SHITTING ME? That’s no good to anyone.
World Book Day is on Thursday. Why would I want to dress as a witch over the weekend. For a laugh?
I don’t think so.
So I send my husband to Asda. Jeez, they saw us coming.
Sixteen quid for a ruddy Harry Potter outfit?
But no stripy tights. Obviously.
So I’ve got 24 hours and no time to not make my seven year old think she looks a dick at school.
What happened to just dressing them in a sheet with a couple of holes cut out and being a ghost?