Lord and Lady Y have just called offering to have our Smalls for a sleep over this Saturday night. The offer makes me feel literally giddy with excitement and before I had even hung up, all activities previously planned for the weekend had been mentally cancelled. Because, quite frankly, 24 hours without offspring is Father Christmas come early for ANY parent - even if his big red sack isn’t yet full.

And now, while I should be sitting here working, I am dreaming of my freedom. Our freedom. We can talk, without being interrupted. We can read… to ourselves. We can just be, without being parents. I mean, how many films d’you reckon we could squeeze in? I know He wants to see Barry Humphries as Dame Edna so we could try and get returns for that too. Oh and I could trick Him into a little festive shopping before an early cocktail at the chic new Winter bar at the Churchill Hotel too?

Winter Wonderland also opens this weekend. But we wouldn’t want to see anyone else struggling with their smalls so we should avoid that. Our 24 hours must be childless, a make-believe world where little people and their running noses don’t exist. We need to remember those days without the responsibility, the nagging and the incessant planning.

Of course the list of what I SHOULD be doing is also endless: the tax return, client invoices or even a tidy up of this mess we call home. But that would be NO fun at all. Instead, this weekend I’ll sleep and play, because the Smalls are away…!

You can read more musings from Emma at www.lifeofyablon.com.