Who's the Mummy?

Well it wasn't me when I picked Thomas up from preschool the other day.

As usual I went into his classroom expecting the usual greeting which I must admit is my favourite part of the day (well if I can be really honest my favourite part is when he is at preschool and I only have one child to look after but for the sake of this I will say that is my favourite part of the day, it is my second favourite part)

So normally he is looking longingly at the door for me and when he sees me his face lights up, if he has a picture or some kind of handmade phone box or rocket made from an old box (don't get me started on that!) he will hold it up to show me while looking proud then he will run to me and say he loves me and he missed me.  That is cute, people think he is cute then when we have left the school gates it is a different story but they aren't to know that so for that moment, I enjoy it and pretend that he is like that all the time. 

But this day was different, as I walked in he looked at me, pointed and said that's not my Mummy, didn't even smile.  Luckily the there were no new teachers, this could have caused a bit of a problem if there were. I said if I am not your Mummy who am I?  To which he replied (with all the teachers and other toddlers watching)  you are a big pair of boobies.  Cringe!