“It is a good wind that blows a man to the wine”
In a final gesture as class rep, I organise a farewell coffee in our local caf? on the last day of term. Yummy Mummy No 1 pulls out a bottle of champagne from her handbag and surreptitiously opens it under the table. Smug Mother of Girls looks on horrified.
The cork hits the underneath of the table with a loud crack. Everyone in the caf? jumps.
“Jittery times,” says Celebrity Dad, holding out his mug under the table. “We make an unlikely sleeper cell anyway.”
“Well, I’m constantly exhausted,” says Yummy Mummy No 1.
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“You can’t drink alcohol before nine o’clock in the morning,” says Smug Mother of Girls, looking round the caf?.
“You can if you pretend it’s a continuation of the night before,” I suggest.
“Why don’t you have a glass?” suggests Yummy Mummy No 1. “I’ll mix it with my orange juice and make you a buck’s fizz. You need to relax.”
“Pregnant women are not allowed to drink any more,” Smug Mother of Girls says sternly. “Haven’t you seen the new guidelines?”
“I found that champagne improved the flavour of my breast milk,” says Yummy Mummy No 1. “And my mood. And that is key to the happiness of both mother and child.”
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“Well, that’s a very irresponsible attitude. Of course, boys are more likely than girls to raise stress levels,” she says, eyeing the Toddler as he completes his fifth circuit of the caf?.
“Perhaps it depends on what you drink,” I say.
“Absolutely,” says Yummy Mummy No 1. “It had to be pink Laurent-Perrier. My husband said it was positively fizzy.”
“That is the definition of champagne,” I say.
“I mean my breast milk fizzed,” she explains.
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“How did your husband know?” asks Sexy Domesticated Dad incredulously.
“He tasted it,” she says. “He’s very at one with nature.”
“In LA, people drink breast milk to boost their immune system,” says Celebrity Dad to Smug Mother of Girls. “So if you decide to increase production then I’ll pay you a good price.”
“I can’t believe there are men who drink breast milk,” says Sexy Domesticated Dad, looking a little pale.
“I always had you down as one of those placenta-eating types,” I tell him. “I have this image of you chopping it up with tofu and quinoa seeds to make one of those seed cakes.”
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“Actually, I’m quite squeamish,” he says looking pale. Suddenly he slides underneath the table.
“This isn’t good for me,” says Smug Mother of Girls.
“It’s worse for him,” says Celebrity Dad. “He’s out cold.”