Listen very carefully, I shall say zis only once

As from this morning there is a new rule in our house.  It's a very necessary rule as due to the apparent inability of my children to focus on a damn word I say to them in the mornings, I was well on the way to turning into something rather unpleasant.  Think half human, half sheepdog but without the winning displays of affection or the lovely waggy tail.

Sick of the sound of my own voice endlessly repeating tedious missives like "time to brush your teeth" or "ties, jumpers and shoes on NOW please" and observing said children wafting about engaging in push-shove-screech 'games' or simply just wafting, aimlessly around the place, the stress of simply trying to leave the house on time for school was just too much.

"For goodness SAKE" I'd hear myself cry, "it's the same routine every BLIPPING morning!  You KNOW what to do to get ready for school!"  And so it would continue, often culminating in me frantically herding them out the door, one eye on the clock and forgetting that vital envelope containing something so important that if it wasn't handed into the school office TODAY the world will surely end.

So at around 0732, I informed them, in a slightly detached, non-confrontational manner, about the new rule.  "Oh kids?  I have something to tell you actually, about this morning, in fact every morning from now on."  They pricked up their little ears and I suddenly had their full attention.  "You see the thing is, Mummy is only going to tell you to do something one time.  I'll make sure you've heard me" (it would be a bit unsporting to whisper it) "and then if you don't do it straight away, well, I won't be shouting at you or chasing you around anymore, no.  I'm just going to get myself totally ready and wait by the front door for you.  If you make us late then you'll have to go in, on your own and explain to the teacher why you're late and if it happens more than once, well, the headmaster will probably get involved too".

Reader, you should  have seen their little faces.  And it worked - a treat.  I didn't raise my voice once, the only moment of doubt was when delightful daughter - DD - tried to test me by not coming to have her hair plaited when I asked her to.  I simply put the brush down and told DD that she'd be going to school resembling a scarecrow.  She complied immediately and the hair got done.  The best bit was when super son - SS - allowed me to kiss him goodbye on the top of his head (I'm not allowed to make kiss-contact with any other part of his face anymore sadly) and said "Mummy, it was really good this morning.  Can we do that all the time?".