We’re smack bang in the middle of the mad morning rush and Reservoir Mum is dressed in her corporate garb and pursing her lips at me for a goodbye kiss and its as our mouths press together to combine my undiluted hell-pit morning breath with her world-ready minty breath that I remember she won’t be back home till all four boys are in bed tonight. The bath/dinner/bedtime routine rears up in my mind like a cow being artificially inseminated by an anatomically confused vet wearing a metal wrist watch. Ouch.