How come if you have four boys, helpful friends (or weird strangers you stand next to in the supermarket checkout queue) suggest “A couple more and you’ll have a football team!”? Are these people mathematically challenged? That would be seven more boys – not two! (And, common sense tells me that nine more boys would result in a stronger squad; any decent football team would need a couple of substitutes given the likelihood of injuries, boy-flu and vomiting bugs – believe me, we have our fair share of those setbacks even with our mini-squad of four.)
But I have NEVER heard anyone suggest to a mum of four girls, “A few more and you’ll have a netball team!”. And that really wouldn’t require much effort on that (lazy-ass) mum’s part. Surely she can squeeze out three more girls for the mild amusement of those helpful friends (or weird strangers)?
I long ago discounted the football team idea. Can you imagine the laundry? And besides, I’ve seen how my first three play football. We’d only ever make it to the local leagues and there’s no money in that. (My fourth, however, at the ripe old age of 18 months, has a great left foot on him – now, if I could just clone him…)
So, being a smart lady, I have decided to steer my boys in the direction of fame and fortune from an early age. You are reading here about the NEXT BIG THING! Move over One Direction! (Or Take That! if you are from my century.) I am going to mould these young men into the world’s most popular boy band. And I will be their Momager. (Only I’m British, so I’ll be a Mumager – which sounds even more stupid.)
One small point – my boys have inherited their father’s inability to hit a true note.
But on the plus side, they ARE good-looking.
And there’s always Autotune.