Mothering Sunday: what a super idea.

Who says it's wrong to be smug?

I was delightfully spoiled for Mothering Sunday yesterday: by ten o'clock I was perfectly Eggs-Benedicted up and sitting in the school church to see the oldest sing at the Mothering Sunday service.  It was a beautiful spring morning and the pews were full of the beatific smiles of mothers who hadn't had to cook breakfast.

The children had been busy; they had firstly learnt a song which went "Don't be grumpy, Don't you spoil the fun" to a jolly, rhythmic little tune, which does stay in your head (though I've heard it quite a bit this week- the youngest has been singing it with casual pointedness after any remonstration).  But anyway, looking at them lined up in their uniforms, faces creased with determination to remember the words and sing their best, it was a perfect song and you really couldn't imagine being grumpy with them ever again.

But sometimes, you can't help it; the tiniest dash of wry cynicism can come nipping into any occasion.

"Thank you God for Mummies..." it began and the congregation heaved a collective Ahhhh.  Really very sweet.  But the next verse made my eyebrows sit up a little.  "Thank you God for Nannies..."  it went on.

Hmmm... 

"They do mean grandmas" my pew neighbour reassured me in a whisper.

I'm sure they did. You never know though.  This is Surrey, after all...