I hope all the mother's out there had a lovely Mother's Day last Sunday.

As my girls spend every weekend with their father, I have to undergo intense but usually fruitless negotiations, to have them for the whole of Mother's Day, instead of the 20 minutes late at night when they've been brought back home. By that stage they are so asleep they don't even remember that I AM their mother, let alone where they are.

It's been seven years of the same process. Pleasant, amiable inquiries about the possibility of getting them back early for that one day, followed by entirely entertaining thoughts on various ways to serve certain parts of his anatomy barbequed when he says no.

This year was different. This year he was going to be busy on Sunday so the girls were returned on Saturday night.

Imagine my delight when I was awoken on Sunday morning with breakfast in bed. The table leg of one of my occasional tables coming at my eyeball. They'd forgotten that part about waking me up first, thus allowing me to sit up.

On the table was a bowl with half a dozen Froot Loops swimming in several litres of milk... and a cookie. It was the best breakfast I'd ever seen.

Later on, we were watching a movie as I shared some Smarties with them. Part of my Mother's Day booty.

Thinking they were being a little ungrateful for the boon of Smartie sharing, I suggested they say thankyou.

Me: 'Thanks Mum, for sharing your Smarties'

Them (still concentrating on the movie and not at all on me): 'Thanks Mum for smelling our farties'

I asked for it really. Didn't I?