But how, my precious ones?
Maybe a little giggle and a schoolyard yarn.
Soccer Boy's ball got stuck in a tree yesterday after school. We couldn't quite reach the lower branches to shake it loose and chucking sticks didn't help. 'I can do it,' says one of the mums and spear throws her daughter's hobby horse into the tree. Yes, that got stuck too.
So now we have a cricket ball and a disembodied horse's head hanging from the branches. 'Leave it to me,' says Mum number two and lobs her daughter's schoolbag at the ball and horse. Guess what. That got stuck too. So now we have a howling toddler and a schoolchild who doesn't know to be happy or sad. (My homework's in there, yippee! Oh hang on, so's my lunch bag...) Soccer Boy in the meantime is perfectly happy, because his ball has come down.
I'm feeling the need for sacrifice, because this is all down to my child, so I'm weighing Soccer Boy's bag in my hand, thinking that it should at least join the crowd in the tree when the one sensible mum among us arrives with a long-handled mop from the janitor's office. And no, she didn't throw it.
It took three mums and said mop to get the horse and the schoolbag down.