Weekends are a time to switch off, relax, recharge the batteries and enjoy the peace of parks, window shopping and cafes. Unfortunately I happen to live on the same planet as Les Jolie Bebes. This particular species of Mummy's Little Angel whose toothless, hairless, unending ability to howl an additional level of pain into your already shattered, hungover highlighted head could win awards beyond any Olympian's dreams. My guess is that Sweet Little Angel Buttercup's parents are so resentful to the World as a whole for the sleep-deprived, sexless lives they've chosen that they seek weekly revenge on those of us with real lives and real jobs, thus inflicting the brunch time teething chorus on unsuspecting, exhausted revellers who have replaced their iMac for an ice-cream and profiteroles for just 48 hours. The injustice is beyond belief.
My solution? Smuggle nail glue in your Prada best, pop some on SLAB's soother while picking it up for the umpteenth time for Mumsie and sit back sipping your macchiato to enjoy some much-earned silence accompanied by a side order of mystified Mummy.
Just desserts indeed.
