Some days I look at my children and I feel all heavenly and divine, like the Madonna (the Christian maternal icon, not the pointy-boobed popster).
On those days my children are angels.
Today, in the car to my parent's home I felt like the Wicked Witch of the West (Coast) and they were my little flying monkeys.
And now, I have unleashed them on Nanna and Grumpy - "fly my pretties, fly!"
Recounting this observation to my friend Vanity, she decided that she was WitchiePoo...I'm still not sure whether that makes her husband Puff 'n' Stuff or the Magic Flute...and I'm not asking.
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