The Perfect Family

The Perfect Family

Everywhere I’ve ever gone before there always seemed to be the ‘Perfects” the Perfect Student, the Perfect Brownie, the Perfect Netball Player, there has even been a Perfect Couple. NOW, there seems to be a “Perfect Family”. The kind of family that normally shows up at THE worse possible moment JUST to make your family look worse than it really is.

They all look like they have stepped out of some amazing family edition of Vogue Magazine. She is fresh-faced even on a couple of hours sleep BUT don’t forget the baby is perfect too so he sleeps a whole 12 hours each and every night.
Mrs Perfect’s hair is curtesy of the “Amazing Angelo” down at that trendy salon that looks as though you’d need to buy an annual membership just to get through the doors. She wears ALOT of white, which stays as clean and crisp as the day she bought it.

She not only bakes for the School fetes but she’s also on the PTA, whilst running a successful children’s clothes business. You secretly hope she employes seven year old sweat shop workers. Not because you have anything against seven year olds but so her face can be plastered all over the news with the indignant quote:


But unfortunately, you know her over priced fashions are all made in the idilic Cotswolds by recovering substance abuse users being given a helping hand by her company’s charitable work to get back into honest employment or something equally as annoying.

Mr Perfect has a dazzling smile, plays tennis, likes showering Mrs P with gifts and is a “Hands on Dad”. MOST of the other mums wished he was “Hands On” with them – but Mr Perfect is actually Perfect and therefore this thought would be furtherest from his mind. The older Perfect Children each play an instrument, are accomplished athletes and A* students. The youngest Perfect child – let’s call him Pee, wouldn’t know what a screaming-tantrum-in-the-supermarket was if it came up and slapped him one with a packet of Hob Nobs. He has NEVER had a Foreign object stuck up his nose, or inexplicably licked the floor, or head butted his cousin in the groin.

Pee may be 18 months but he can speak intelligibly, whereas my 18 month old utters “Bubble” for EVERY SINGLE THING. Well actually sounds more like “Buhbuh” because his “Wah Wah” (dummy/pacifier) is in his mouth 24-7. Now you may make the very correct assumption that it’s BECAUSE of his “Wah Wah” that he is monosyllabic. But God forbid, we REMOVE the “Wah Wah” because the clue is in the name – which HE named! He cries the entire time it’s out of his mouth. So I say let the kid have his “Wah Wah” what harm can it do – really? So he’ll talk when he’s good and ready and if not…… Then I won’t get any back chat when he’s a teenager. Yeah, I’m sure, he’ll still spit the dummy, but it’ll be in the literal sense and I’ll be plenty used to it by then.

Do you know me? Probably not, but my stories represent the common or mundane aspects of humanity told from a different angle. If you recognise yourself in my writing, for legal reasons – I assure you it’s only coincidental. I am not currently sitting in a parked car outside your house frantically writing down observations……Did you just come peer out the window? I’m not sitting in the silver BMW. I would be in the rusty Fiesta BUT I’m not there at all.
Oh you’ve forgotten to put your bins out….. Sooo not there.



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