Half an hour before lift-off, I discover I have booked the entertainer for middle son’s Star Wars-themed birthday party for the wrong weekend. Gently break the news to Husband on a Short Fuse.
“What is your favourite Star Wars character?” I ask him.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he says. “A man of honour, integrity and courage.”
I go upstairs to find a brown woolly blanket and scarf and hand them over.
“May the Force be with you,” I tell him, holding out a light saber. He looks at me suspiciously.
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“What do you mean?” he asks. “Isn’t Han Solo about to arrive?”
“He can’t,” I say. “He’s busy.”
“Fighting an intergalactic battle?”
“No, he’s at another party,” I say. “I got the date wrong.”
“Then who is going to deal with the 30 children about to arrive?”
“You. And Sexy Domesticated Dad.”
The doorbell goes. Husband on a Short Fuse clutches his chest.
“I’m having palpitations,” he says.
“You’re just having hypochondria,” I say reassuringly. I open the door to Sexy Domesticated Dad. Husband on a Short Fuse circles him warily.
“Have you done the cake?” asks Sexy Domesticated Dad. I point towards the cooker.
“Is it a Frisbee? he asks.
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“It’s a Jedi ship,” I say. I pull out some cardboard boxes from the cupboard and start making body armour.
“What are you doing?” asks Sexy Domesticated Dad.
“You can be Darth Vader,” I tell him.
“I’ll plait my hair like Princess Leia,” I say. “The girls need someone to identify with.”
“If you’re Princess Leia, why can’t I be Han Solo?” asks Sexy Domesticated Dad.
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“Because if anyone is going to be Han Solo, it should be me,” says Husband on a Short Fuse.
The doorbell goes. Alpha Mum arrives early with her daughter. I do my belt up around my white nightie.
“Lucy,” she says, looking me up and down.
“Princess Leia to you,” I reply.
“Do you mind if I stay?” she asks, knowing that I do. “After that walnut whirl incident at school, I want to make sure that this is a nut-free zone.” Sexy Domesticated Dad activates the Darth Vader mask and moves towards her, with the heavy breathing on the loudest setting.
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“The only nut here is you,” he mutters, but only I can hear him.
“We’re looking for someone to play Han Solo,” I tell her.
“But I’d rather be Darth Vader,” she says.
“Perfect,” says Sexy Domesticated Dad, looking pleased. “Then I get to fall for Lucy.”