Monday 4 May

May the fourth be with you. If you're a parent, you need it ... I know I do.

Dear Offspring of mine,

I know that we are 50 days in

To a sort of prison-with-your-parents sentence

But I'm not sure that's any excuse for, you know, today.

You've done so well, so far,

I must admit, I thought we were past the worst.

But then, you know, today.

There's no excuse, really, for this teenaged angst.

For those primadonna meltdowns

About who stole your pants.

Shouting at the dog, at one another, 

Then at next-door's DIY-er.

Food on the floor? Rude notes on your door?

There's no excuse, really, for that.

And there's no excuse, really, for those smart-arsed replies.

For those endless rolled eyes,

For those looks of surprise, when you're reminded

Of that thing you said you'd do

Back on Day 42.

Littered bedroom floor? Loudly slammed doors? 

There's no excuse, really, for that.

Dear Offspring, this is tough, I know.

It's not what you expected of 2-0-2-0.

We all thought we'd just go with the flow,

And then, wham! We're locked down, with nowhere to go.

But could we look on the bright side?

How's that for a plan?

After all, there's no excuse, really, for this.

Is there?