The Things My Kids Think Are Luxuries

You’d think kids would be grateful for the big stuff in life – holidays, days out, getting an ice cream after school. Not mine. Nope. My five seem to believe the greatest luxuries on this planet are things that technically already belong to me.

Take my phone charger, for example. You’d think it was solid gold the way they nick it. I’ll be sat there, battery at 2%, and the charger has mysteriously migrated to Jacob’s bedroom where it’s tangled up with crisp packets, socks, and whatever science experiment he’s got growing under the bed. And when I demand it back? Apparently I’m stealing HIS charger. I’ve now resorted to buying a multi-pack of cheap ones, but somehow they still disappear faster than my patience on a school morning.

Then there’s the last biscuit. I could have an untouched pack of custard creams in the cupboard, but God forbid there’s just one left on a plate. Suddenly it’s The Hunger Games. Two of mine once had an actual standoff over a single Maryland cookie — dramatic sighs, crossed arms, the works. Do you know how I solved it? I ate it. Right in front of them. Did it stop the argument? Technically yes. Did it earn me the title of “the worst mum ever”? Also yes. Worth it.

And don’t get me started on the good spot on the sofa. Every sofa has one — the comfy corner with the blanket, the perfect view of the telly. Do I get to sit there? Not a chance. The rule seems to be “first bottom down, owns it forever.” My 3-year-old told me I was “too big” for the sofa and suggested I sit on the floor. Charming. These days, I’ve invested in a massive throw so at least I can claim some part of it back. Worst case, I abandon them all and hide in my bed with Netflix on my own TV.

Showers are no better. The teenagers treat hot water like it’s fine dining. If it’s not volcanic, I hear screaming about the “broken boiler.” By the time it’s my turn, the water pressure is about as strong as a sneeze and I’m left rinsing shampoo out with a trickle that feels personally offensive. I’ve now implemented “shower slots” like it’s the Olympics, and bulk-buy cheap shampoo because apparently pouring half a bottle down the drain is part of the fun.

And of course, the thing they test daily: my sanity. I’ve had conversations that no functioning adult should ever need to have. “Stop licking the window.” “No, you cannot put Lego in the toaster.” “Stop cutting your Socks up into puppets.” Honestly, sometimes I think about writing a parenting dictionary just so future moms know these phrases will one day come out of their mouths.

The truth is, kids don’t need designer trainers or the latest iPhone. What they really want is your charger, your snacks, your sofa spot, and your patience. And maybe that last biscuit. All parents go through it — the trick is finding a way to laugh, stash biscuits in secret places, and bulk-order chargers on Amazon. And if all else fails? Coffee. Buckets of it.