With all this fantastic Easter holiday weather we are having, I haven’t even had to resort to the usual Emergency Entertainment Plan of a two-hour traipse around the local shopping centre. That is, until today.

It was time to get new school shoes for the boys. I couldn’t avoid it any longer. So, armed with two promises of absolute best behaviour and no requests for sweets or toys, we set out to replace the clumpy, sensible winter shoes which growing feet had been squished into for the last few months, with shiny, brand new, summer ones.

I quite like shopping for shoes for the boys. Without any justification for buying any new ones for myself (even if there is a Royal Wedding to be viewed from the sofa on Friday), buying shoes for the children which they absolutely, positively need and cannot possibly do without for a moment longer, satisfies my need to shop and provides a decent dose of retail therapy.

Shoes were bought, boys were delighted and all went remarkably well until we arrived home and discovered that one pair of shoes had a toy lurking in the bottom of it. Not both pairs; just one. The rest of the day has been spent dealing with issues about sharing and things not being fair and general upset and argument.

Why, oh why, did you put a toy in there Mr Shoe Manufacturer? We would have bought them anyway and, OK, my children may not be total angels but up until the ‘toy-in-the-shoe’ discovery, we were having a perfectly pleasant day.

Please don’t put toys in our children’s shoes – they really, honestly don’t need any more toys. Instead, why not put a voucher inside for a large latte for a shoe-shopping weary mother? It will honestly be much more appreciated and won’t cause any arguments. Not from this mother anyway.

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