On the face of it, a visit home by the Boomerang Child on Sunday just gone was going to be the perfect Mother's Day present for Mrs P.

Obviously there would be the appropriate cards, gifts, a sumptuous home made breakfast and/or lunch plus numerous other treats during the day.

It was, said Mrs P on Saturday as she cleaned the house from top to bottom in preparation for the Royal Visit, the sort of pampering she needed after a particularly tough week at work.

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Naturally I felt I should help. So I wandered round the house with the vacuum trying to work out how I couldn't see the little bits of stuff which Mrs P spotted I'd missed upon her regular inspections of my work.

Apparently it's called Domestic Blindness. Don't knock it. Millions of us men are afflicted.

The Boomerang Child arrived to a sparkling house and within minutes the kitchen resembled a bomb site as Mum's Favourite Cake was prepared.

Luckily we had all 107 required ingredients and 87 pots, pans, whisks, forks, spoons, measuring jugs etc close at hand so nobody had to stress. Ahem.

And because it was Mother's Day I cleaned up.

And because it was HER kitchen, Mrs P helped me clean up.

After that cards and gifts were presented and Mrs P discovered that afternoon she was to be the recipient of a soothing massage.

However, before then lunch was to be prepared.


Luckily we had all the 83 required ingredients and 43 pots, pans and associated utensils at hand so nobody had to stress. Ahem. Again.

And because it was Mother's Day I cleaned up.

And because it was HER kitchen and I hadn't performed well enough first time round Mrs P assisted. Again.

So finally, she got whisked away for her massage.

By all accounts the 10-minute drive to the massage parlour (er, am I the only one who thinks that sounds a bit odd in this instance?) was a little harrowing as Boomerang Child told of a tough week at work and various other stresses of life.

At this point ,dear reader, lest you think ill of our beloved daughter, I should point out she is made in her mother's image and is among the most caring, kind, loyal and thoughtful of people. She absolutely adores her Mum and vice versa.

So, when difficulties emerge in the life of the child Mrs P goes into protector mode with a single-minded determination best left unchecked.

Thus in this instance, as Mrs P got the gift of a soothing message to deal with the stresses of everyday life so did the Boomerang Child on the table next to her.

Upon their return, both totally relaxed and in need of a little nap, I was of the opinion Mrs P's stress free day had perhaps not eventuated to the extent she had expected.

I mean it may be Mother's Day but that didn't mean it was all about Mum. Your kids are always going to come first aren't they?.

I remarked as much later in the afternoon when No. 2 Son - a relatively new father - rang with Mother's Day greetings.

New technology allows us to speak face to face on line so it was interesting to see his reaction when I relayed the events of the day and how we'd supplied all the goods for cake and lunch, spent most of the day cleaning up and ended up forking out for a massage too.

If Boomerang Child is made in the mould of Mrs P, No. 2 Son is more like me and the possessor of a wicked sense of humour. The smile emerging on his face as my story finished proved the point.

"Well Dad," he said. "All I can say is I can't wait till father's Day. I'm coming to visit".

■ Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to kevin.page@nzme.co.nz .