Crummy mummy disappoints her children

Parents' evenings. One attended, initially, on the wrong day by mistake. But all seems well and it's great that there has been an end to dry retching on the way to school. Crummy mummy feels a little gasp of relief come suddenly. We appear to be going in the right direction. We are going UP sub levels! Hoorah! But today, crummy mummy is in trouble with the kids. So, periodically:

"You gave us the wrong sandwiches again. You know I hate cheese and pickle."
"Why did you give me chocolate spread? And there were vegetables in my packed lunch and you know I hate vegetables."
"You didn't sign the form for the road safety man and so he wouldn't give me a certificate even though I crossed the road and didn't get run down."
"I looked  in my P.E. kit and you put the wrong trainers in there and I had to wear them and I fell over."
It is a litany of small errors.
"P's mum lets him walk to school on his own."
"S's mum lets him stay up until 8.30 on a weeknight AND he's got a telly in his room."
"N's mum gives her £1 pocket money a week."
 "K's mum gives him loads of pocket money. But he has to earn it. He almost has enough for a house."
 "Why do we have to get chickens when Toby says we can have his guinea pigs?"
"Why can't I watch a 12? F. watches 18s and he's not even 8 yet!"

Oh lordy. Crummy mummy hits upon a brilliant scheme. She lifts the strands of hair from in front of her ears, applies earplugs and settles the hair down again. They need not know. Now she can smile beatifically because she can't hear them complain. If it's an emergency, they will pull on her arm. Crummy mummy only pretends to be patient with children, you know.