Fun at the Fair Skirt

Daft ideas pop into my head on a pretty regular basis.

Like the other morning. Knowing the girls had a birthday party to go to at lunch time, I had a grand idea of making a skirt as a gift for them to take with them. Over breakfast. In my defence, I'd read ages ago about Dana making little gathered skirts in about the time it takes me to eat my breakfast, and so, reckoning that the speed my children eat is about four times slower, making a simple skirt while they ate breakfast wasn't such a deluded idea.

It started off nicely. I even made a check of the time by the kitchen clock, so I could enjoy smugly proclaiming myself to be as fast (but ideally faster) than Dana. Competitive, yes. (From quite a young age, none of my family would play chess or Monopoly with me.)

I should have known better than to respond to the requests for boiled eggs. One after another. Yes - three separate processes of egg boiling, as, even though asked at the start, the other two only wanted eggs once they had seen the one their sister had. And then the complaints came in. Apparently, the eggs weren't quite up to scratch in terms of requirement for the yolk to be runny/not that runny/not there at all, depending on which child was complaining. And despite my offers of swaps, and attempts to explain that boiled eggs do tend to be less runny if you sit and look at them for half an hour rather than eating them, two out of three eggs were firmly rejected.

By the time any notions of finishing the skirt quickly had gone out of the window, and I'd declared the entirely made up competition of one to be over (but only because I am busy tending to the nutritional needs of my children), I decided I may as well complicate things by adding a pocket.

I'm glad I did. As the birthday girl (who is 3) loved the sweets inside it. A girl needs a pocket for her lollipops, right? Or tissues. I will continue to make my own girls things with pockets in the vain hope it will encourage them to carry their own tissues from time to time, rather than relying on the staff to hold on to them.

One of my favourites, from the days when my Nan would buy me sweets. Don't think it used to be lemon flavoured sherbet, though.