The Lady’s Not For Turning – Not

Thanks to last night’s news, I have been reminded that U-turns are a Very Bad Thing. Ed Balls said so, so it must be true.

To my mind, this proves only that he spends more time at work than he spends with his children.

All real parents know that U-turns are inevitable.

Dummies, toddler reins, television, computer games, Annabel Karmel, Disney … you name it, I have U-turned on it. Schools, puppies, where to live … yep, you’ve guessed it. If it weren’t for U-turns, my son would have been under a bus, and my daughter would be bottom in Horrible History.

We don’t even save our U-turns for little things like where to live, either. They even extend to McDonald’s and Pizza Hut. Mr Balls has obviously never been trapped in a Cornwall-bound car with my children for 12 hours if he thinks that  fuel duty, static caravans and Cornish pasties represent a serious change of policy.

I like to think that my U-turns demonstrate my admirable flexibility and willingness to listen and take into account the situations as they are, rather than as I imagined they might be (cue ludicrous visions of well-mannered children daintily nibbling home-made organic cous-cous). They are obviously not the result of having made rubbish decisions in the first place.

I think the only thing we haven’t U-turned on is having children. Though that’s probably only because it’s too late.

When it comes to everything else, this lady is very decidedly for turning.

Eating My Words (with a side order of fries)

A couple of weeks ago, I pontificated in this very blog about how McDonald’s should stick to providing plastic tat with their plastic tatty Happy Meals. My children want junk, I said proudly, not yet more books.

As with so many things to do with parenting, I was forced to eat my words on Tuesday.

My daughter has been nagging for several weeks for a Happy Meal. As we had to wait for an hour for her brother, I spotted my opportunity to be a good mother (while granting her wish) and an even better one (knowing for sure that she would reject junk food unless it came with an equally junky toy).

“Very well,” I said. “But they’re giving away books, so you won’t get a plastic poo-ing reindeer.”

“I don’t need a plastic poo-ing reindeer,” daughter replied. “But I do need some chicken McNuggets.”

Humph. Well, at least I got the Good Mother points for saying yes.

In we went. “Don’t forget you’re getting a book,” I intoned. Memories of the plastic voice changer that enabled us to do convincing Justin Bieber impressions are fresh in my mind.

We sat down. She opened the box. “Ooooooooh!” she squeaked. “A sheepdog story!”

My daughter loves sheepdogs more than anything on the planet. She has two sheepdog hand-puppets and a life-sized stuffed sheepdog in her room. I had to sign up to Facebook solely in order to follow the antics of her all-time best friend ever – a sheepdog called Mineshop Muttley.

And then she spots what comes with the book. A sheepdog finger-puppet.

Well, her joy knew no bounds. We spent a happy time popping cardboard Muddlepuddle Farm animals out of the Happy Meal box and playing at schools with them. Then she read the sheepdog story to me. She even enjoyed getting her chips out of the stable door.

“Mummy,” she said as we left a convenient hour later. “That was the best Happy Meal present I’ve EVER had.”

Well, what do I know? After all, I’m just a parent.

In A McMuddlepuddle

What is the world coming to? First Peppa Pig is being blamed for toddlers getting their wellies wet. And now McDonald’s is ditching the plastic Happy Meal toy and giving away a book instead.

Yes, for the next four weeks, McD’s will become the country’s biggest retailer of children’s books and will give out nine million copies of Michael Morpurgo’s Muddlepuddle Farm.

As a professional reader and writer, I should of course be doing a happy-dance. But I’m afraid all I can say is: bah humbook.

Over the years, my children – who were, bear in mind, never, ever, EVER going to darken the doors of McDonald’s – have been entertained by ridiculous bits of plastic Happy Meal tat. Five hundred mile car journey? Sorted by the Happy Feet junk that came with three soggy fish fingers. Day out with grandparents? Enlivened by the plastic pop-up squirrel and my daughter chirping ‘he’s lost his nuts’.

Books are all very well, but re-re-re-reading Muddlepuddle Farm does not begin to compare to the hilarious voice-changer that kept us (and sundry passers-by) occupied on the two-mile walk home from school before Christmas.

What McDonald’s needs to recognise is that people (big ones as well as small ones) don’t like surprises. McDonald’s giving away books is as if John Lewis had suddenly decided to start selling push-up bras to toddlers.

McDonald’s is known and loved (ahem) as the purveyor of junk food and child-pleasing plastic rubbish. We all know that, and we’re all happy with that. Sorry, but I will not be spending whatever-it-is on a child’s weekly allowance of salt and saturated fat in order to get a book I’ve already got three copies of.

If I’m going to pollute my children, I want to go the whole hog and get the plastic tat too.