How to be The World’s Worse Mum…Step 3 Revision (Examination Conditions).

It was so quiet and peaceful in the house.

The Teenager had set the table ready for the science test paper he was going to work through.

I had decided to help him; and joined him at the table with my lap top. If there were any tricky questions then a quick dash to Wikipedia and all would be revealed.

The first questions went well: ‘Why was the ragwort growing taller than the grass?’ Within moments I was clicking through internet sites concerned with ragwort. It was fascinating stuff.

‘Hey, it says here that a horse would have to eat several stones in weight of ragwort in order to kill it.’ I happily inform the teenager. ‘There is even a reference here to a horse eating around a quarter of its body weight and surviving, that’s amazing.’

There’s a disinterested grunt from The Teenager. He’s finished answering questions on ragwort and is now writing about cinnabar moths. Before I can catch up with him he is puzzling over why oxygen damages the filament in a light bulb. A deft Wiki click and all is revealed.

That’s when I notice the smell.

It’s ammonia.

It comes in waves.

‘I should have cleaned out the hamster cage,’ I say.

The Teenager looks up from his work,
‘Ugh,’ he says. ‘I can smell it too.’

I don’t want odour of hamster to put The Teenager off his studies so I move the cage into the nearby kitchen and begin to clean it. Of course there were the inevitable crashing, scrubbing, opening and closing cupboards sounds; and the sound of an ocean of water racing through the sink.

I opened the back door, and walked with the hamster litter to the compost bin.

The compost bin is shaped like a green Dalek in the garden and is in The Teenager’s line of sight should he happen to look out of the window. The lid is always tricky to open. I wrestle with it and deposit the litter then wave to The Teenager who has enjoyed the entertainment.

Once back inside I begin to twist off the top of the hamster’s ‘attic bedroom’; I look like a burglar trying to crack a reluctant safe. The Teenager is watching mesmerised as I fail to sense the correct opening position and continue winding and winding the top plastic lid round and round.

Once it is finally opened the hamster bedding tumbles like a petals falling from a flower; though there is no corresponding sweet smell.

‘Ugh,’ says The Teenager then, ‘Ah,’ as the sleepy hamster, his ears still folded against his head is woken. The Teenager watches as the creature is placed on the fresh sawdust floor of its cage.
I industrially clean and replace the ‘attic’.

There is something fascinating about a hamster trying to climb up a transparent tube. It’s the scrabbling of tiny feet, the wind-milling of little legs; and the peristalsis of the undulating small body as it strives to summit its Everest. The Teenager is watching each minute detail with rapt attention.

I never should have bought the dwarf hamsters. We saw them in the shop their tiny noses peeking out of the bedding and our hearts were lost.

I pick up their cage and whisk it away into the kitchen.

Dwarf hamsters are not easy to catch. I grab the first and hold it in my hand, and show it to The Teenager who looks up from his science paper, ‘Ah, he exclaims thrilled. It’s the soft down on the white under belly, the twinkling eyes and the delicate feet that captivates attention. The Teenager strokes the hamster gently before I place it in the other freshly cleaned cage.
Moments later I’ve caught the second, which now peeps coquettishly over my thumb. I show it to The Teenager. ‘Ah,’ he says again.

The hamsters do not get on well.

When I return from fighting the green Dalek compost bin, I discover that Hammy has slipped down his tube and is now confronting his tiny cousins. The dwarf hamsters are now trying to find an escape route. They are climbing the bars and gnawing noisily at them whilst their larger hamster cousin lumbers through the sawdust in a threatening manner towards them.
One of the dwarf hamsters leaps up onto the wheel that I’d forgotten to crease. It creaks with a loud painful cranking sound, as the tiny creature tries to work off a phenomenal amount of adrenaline.

‘It’s noisy isn’t it,’ observes The Teenage. He is watching the hamster drama, unable to turn the next page of his test paper.

I rush to finish cleaning the second cage and to transfer the tiny hamsters back to their luxury home. The Teenager watches thoughtfully every second of the process as if his mind is a blank.
‘You don’t mind if I sweep the carpet do you?’ I ask. There is a confetti of hamster litter across the floor.

‘No,’ says The Teenager. ‘Go ahead.’

I discover that there are papers over the top of the vacuum cleaner which I’ll have to move to get to it. I take the papers outside to the bottom of the garden. Here wait the sawn tree trunks from the tree that fell in the last storm. They’ve already been arranged in a high pyramid for their funeral pyre. I set the fire and it begins to blaze gloriously.

The fire is on a direct line of sight with The Teenager who is sitting enthralled staring out of the window. He is now watching with glazed eyes an amazing pyrotechnic display of sparks. There are hypnotising curling flames that are leaping and soaring ten feet into the sky.

I wave at him, and he waves back.

When I get back into the house I’m pleased to see that he is using the laptop as a learning support. Then I discover that he is watching a video from Youtube: the Simpson’s version of ‘The Shining’. He switches it off and goes back to his science paper; as I begin to noisily vacuum up the room, jabbing at his bare feet under the table with the cleaner.

I finally put the cleaner away and go to give The Teenager more ‘support’.
He tells me he’s finished the paper and is going to his room.
The downstairs room is now swept and quiet.
The laptop’s screen is a blank.
The hamsters are curled asleep in fresh clean bedding.
The fire outside has fallen into silent ash.

I make a cup of tea; delighted to have been able to create for The Teenager the perfect test conditions!