Meeting. 6.30am. My Room. Be there.

As I sit, the clock ticks over to 9.07am. The young folk are still in their pyjamas but this is contrary to the busy activities that have already taken place at an early hour. Not by me, I might stress, I have simply managed to take a shower, eat a bowl of porridge and savour a latte, but the young folk have held an intense meeting, so intense it couldn't possibly be disturbed for trivial matters such as eating or showering.

In fact, the meeting was of such great importance that it required minimal lighting and optional slippers or teddy bears. Yep, Le Artiste had things on his mind, and by jove he was going to have the whole situation under control by sunrise. It would seem that earlier attempts to get the meeting under way were thwarted by Petal's desire to hide under the doona with a packet of playing cards, but Le Artiste is nothing if not persistent.

I must confess, I have enjoyed the serenity provided by The Meeting, because as we all know, important meetings produce only a solemn murmur. There is no laughing or silliness, meetings are serious business, especially when held in your pyjamas under a pop up tent (the cone of silence was already occupied it would seem).

But now it appears the meeting has adjourned. Petal is shuffling past with a Magna Doodle covered with writing (and the odd flower and smiley face) whilst Le Artiste is hot on her heels, wearing a satisfied smirk that would make Donald Trump proud.

"Mum, I have sorted everything out. I have told S that she has to be good, and not argue with me or she'll get more litter duties, and I made her repeat it back to me lots of times so it really sticks inside her brain."

Phew, am I glad that's sorted. Poor Petal, no wonder she keeps looking up at me and longingly asking if I might consider going to the hospital to pick her up a little brother or sister (or perhaps I could swing by the Sexyversity, which my friend's children assure her is the place to produce a new sibling these days).

Oh well, perhaps I can be of service by answering the phones, producing the Babycinos and plating up the breakfast pastries, but I better get a wriggle on otherwise I might get called into a meeting, yikes.