A day in the life of small children. Scene 1

I found a box of old film scripts yesterday, leftovers from a previous life. It got me thinking… What would the script of a real mum’s life look like? Well, here’s my version:


SCENE 1: ‘Would you like a snack?’


Mum enters the room. Her long brown hair is disheveled. She has a wary look on her face. It’s 3:10pm. The School Run is done and dusted and now her children are hungry and overtired. 
Mum’s P.O.V. – There’s a pile of discarded school bags and shoes by the door. Lying next to them is a small tree’s worth of pencil drawings destined for the recycling bin. 
She approaches a pale grey sofa. Her two children are watching her like a hawk.

The scene is fraught with tension.


Mummeeee. I’m hun-gerrrrr-ry!



Are you, sweetie? How was your day?

Mum knows it’s all about survival until bedtime. She glances at the clock on the kitchen wall. Her face crumples a little bit. Daddy’s on the later train tonight. She briefly considers divorcing him for it.



I want an ice cream.


Not before dinner, Emily…



(dissolves into tears as if receiving the worst new of her life)



Bread stick or cracker?

Emily stops crying immediately.



Cracker please… And please don’t forget the butter like last time.

The youngest child suddenly starts wailing. She jumps up from the sofa and starts stamping her tiny foot.


But I don’t WANT crackers or breadstick. I wanted pitta bread!


We don’t have any pitta bread, Jess! Mummy didn’t have time to go shopping this morning. She was too busy making cupcakes for your bloody cake sale tomorrow!



Mummy! You shouldn’t swear. I’m telling Daddy.


Oh good. 



I want some raisins.

Mum takes an audible breath, so deep and so long it could incinerate the entire length of a cigarette. (Which she wishes she had right now. She considers selling one of the kids for it.)



We don’t have any raisins, Jess.


We do have some dried mango though.

Jess considers this for a moment before a triumphant smile creeps across her face.


Ok. But I want to watch Paw Patrol too.

 Emily dissolves into hysterical tears again


But mummy I HATE Paw Patrol! I wanted Sofia The First… Jess always chooses.

You don’t love me anymore. You love Jess more than me!

Mum makes a tactical retreat into the kitchen. The kids are too busy screaming at each other to notice. Mum collapses against the cooker with a groan. She hasn’t the courage to announce what she’s cooking for dinner tonight… She fears the fallout will be of nuclear proportions.
Mum heads towards the fridge, de-corks a bottle left over from the weekend and takes a slug. She glances at the kitchen clock again.



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