Sod's Law – the theory that if it can go wrong, it will, with the worst possible outcome
Alanis Morrisette sang about irony, but it's not until I reached motherhood that I think I truly grasped what she was warbling on about.
"It's like raaaaiiin – on the school run" now springs to mind whenever I hear that anthem – alas, I've not been able to finish the rest of the parody, but here is my guide to the Sod's Laws of Parenthood:
Hand prints / snot trails will appear down the windows as soon as you've finally got round to cleaning them.
Rain on the school run – you can ALWAYS guarantee the heavens will open at 8.30am and 3pm – like clockwork. And then stop once you get home.
You will have to mercilessly shake your kids from slumber to get them up on time for school every weekday – yet come the weekend they are bouncing on your bed at 5am demanding to know why you're not up yet.
Your tot will suffer a massive nappy explosion on the only day you leave the house without a spare change of clothes.
You're on your annual / only night out – which means the littlies are guaranteed to come down with *chicken pox / tonsillitis / vomiting bug / Dengue fever (*delete as appropriate) meaning you have to come home early.
They will always vomit / spit up / spill a drink on you when you've got your best / going out clothes on.
You're all dressed in your Sunday best, off to visit relatives – so you can guarantee your little angel will fall over in a muddy puddle, ruining said 'best' outfit.
They will always need the loo when there isn't one for miles around.
You spend ages making your little monster's dinner from scratch – packed full of healthy veg – and they will reject it outright, demanding fish fingers and chips again.
You will queue 20 minutes for an ice-cream, only for them to drop it on the floor after two licks – and then have a screaming fit until you rejoin the back of the line to get another.
Having written a list to Father Christmas / the Birthday Fairy, they will wait until the night before to tell you the one thing that they really, really want – and obviously it's the one item you can't physically get in time. (I still have nightmares about the Peppa Pig umbrella which ruined Christmas a couple of years ago).
On a visit to childless friends they will spill food / drinks – or even worse bodily fluids – on now former friend's new cream shagpile.
Having spent a small fortune booking a professional photographer to capture some beautiful shots of your children, they will, of course, refuse to perform and spend the whole session crying and fighting – basically doing anything but smiling.
Having begrudgingly spent £4 on a giant helium balloon which you didn't want them to have anyway, as it will only cause fights – it will either be swept away by a giant gust of wind, or, burst as you try and squeeze the damn oversized thing into the car.
After driving for hours to the theme park, you will find on arrival that your sprogs are too small to go on most of the rides – cue more screaming fits. (This one however is all your own fault – and a timely reminder to read the website's small print before setting off).
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