Probably not that much in need

Clearly I do not move in the right circles. Tiger, who has the right contacts, wangles herself an invitation to a party at the BBC. Today, as a Child in Need, she's whisked off at lunchtime in a minibus to scoff cake alongside Pudsey Bear, have a sing song, and be showered with fuss and compliments over the colour of her cardigan.

Tiger has managed this needy status thanks to attending Shed, the inclusive drama group that all the gritlets attend on a weekly basis and which has just received, courtesy of Pudsey and all givers, a lovely cheque so Shed can continue inclusive drama-ing up and down the country for another year or so. And they thoroughly deserve it too, and long may Shed continue.

But sad to say, these gritlets seem to take far too much of this adventuresome party life for granted. It may be time to change things.

I could start by asserting my rights. As Mother in Need. The one who works ceaselessly for her children's education and the one who got the little grits into Shed in the first place by arguing their special needs status as small person-type triplets.

With a Mother in Need status, I wouldn't say no to a day off, a big box of chocolates, the occasional thank you from Dig, and another couple of hours magically appearing before lunch. Because not for the first time do I approach my lonesome day by squeezing in as many activities as are humanly possible; activities which might educationally occupy the gritlets and keep me busy enough at the same time to ensure I do not sink in a haze of self-pitying alcohol abuse by tea-time.

So while Tiger is being photographed with Pudsey, the hard working mother takes her remaining offspring to the last sailing of the season, and then onto the spooky walk through the woods behind the cricket green. This is held by our wonderful parks department, and I know the ghouls, ghosts witches and demons are staff of the parks department dressed up and hiding behind trees, but all the tickets were sold pretty sharpish and I had to plead special status here too. You see? This is an example of the ceaseless, thankless work that goes on round here by this sad and lonely mother in need.

Anyway, when we're done with the walk and the hallowe'en games, then I take Shark and Squirrel to the party at the arts centre, where we get to play with glow sticks, warm ourselves by the bonfire, admire the scarecrows made on Wednesday's group workshop, and watch the horror film put together that day by teenagers working with a local film-maker. Then, after another party-fuelled social whirl of a day, we pick up Tiger and go home.

Rightly, all the gritlets should think themselves charmed and fortunate with a life like this.

But Squirrel is in protest and suggests she might be more in need than us all. She laments that the hot chocolate at the hallowe'en party was the worst she had ever tasted in her life.

My mother might have chosen the word, spoiled.

I, of course, will use the word, fortunate.