A day in the life of Sofia, aged 4.

I wake up, open my eyes, glance at my Gro Clock, see it’s still blue but think ‘Fuck it‘ and off I go into mummy and daddy’s bedroom making coughing noises as I go. They don’t get the hint so I like to then clamber over them and start asking them repeatedly to ‘go on your phone‘, they always say no and this just makes me more agitated. Sometimes when I know they’re really knackered they say yes, I then sit in the middle of them and watch whatever shit I’m watching on YouTube really loud.

When mum finally opens the stair gate to heaven at 7am (she’s well out of order we’re not allowed downstairs a minute before), I run over to the cereal cupboard and deliberate over which colour bowl to pick – mum then gets Arlo a bowl out and I decide that I want that colour so I throw mine on the floor and start to have a tantrum. Mummy tells me she’s got the same colour bowl out for me too, but I’m too busy stamping my feet and I can’t hear her.
Deciding that I’m hungry I sulk over to where mum’s put my breakfast and sulkily eat it. After the cereal I’m still hungry so I go back into the kitchen to get my vitamin – I only eat them as they’re soft and squishy like a Haribo – then I’ll have a piece of toast.
Mum tells me to start getting ready for school, I like to get my uniform on in stages – I get well stressed out over the socks as the heel bit doesn’t always fit right so, depending on my morning mood, I may have a meltdown…that involves either sulking , throwing myself back on the sofa kicking my legs in the air or growling and stamping my feet as long as I can. All of these things piss mummy off no end, but I carry on doing it anyway.
Biggleton ends and Justin’s House begins – we know if Robert the Robot’s ‘Dustin’ for Justin’ then mums gonna lose her shit and start running about the house collecting everything up, shouting at me to get my shoes and coat on, not forget my water bottle and she tries to prise Arlo away from the TV. He’s addicted to that box.
I deliberate whether to take my scooter today, when I was pleading for it in Smyth’s I promised them that I’d scoot to school everyday but the novelty of that soon wore off and I don’t really bother taking it out at all now. In fact, mummy now just hangs her DG over it.
Arlo gets strapped into his pushchair after a bit of a wrestle and off we go, I like the walk to school but not when mum says we’re late and makes us walk diagonally across the field and not the path, so my feet get really wet.  I arrive at school, get shy saying ‘Good morning‘ to my teacher who stands at the door greeting us all. Once I’ve taken my name off the chart and chosen my lunch (Tuesday is roast and Friday is fish and chips – they’re my favourites), I hang my coat on my peg and then fanny about deciding what book I’m going to pick – I like to take my time doing this, especially if I know it’s a day that mummy goes to work as I can see she’s trying to jivvy me up but I still move no faster.
Just as mummy’s going to leave I suddenly become a little drama queen and pretend I’m shy and sad , I’ve learnt that by doing this I get to hold one of the teachers hands and get extra attention.

I’m so well behaved at school; I listen, I do as I’m asked and I play nicely with my friends. I like to save being an absolute tantrumming shitbag for when I get home. Mum and dad had a parents evening a few weeks ago and the teachers told them how well behaved I am, I think they thought the teachers were talking about another child. But no, that’s me. I like to be really nice to teachers and my friends mummy’s and daddy’s, so when mummy has a moan about me then everyone just thinks she’s being dramatic. I’m pretty clever for four and three quarters.
Some days after school I go to after school club and some days Mummy and Arlo pick me up – they’re the days when mummy is off work and she looks after Arlo. I’ve heard mummy say that Arlo loves being an only child for those few hours and he plays really nicely. At least he gets those few hours of nice playing because I like to take things from him when I’m home, it’s usually the toys that I’ve not played with for months but if I see my little brother playing with it I just HAVE to have it.
If I’m not doing that then I’m usually whipping him or giving him a sly little pinch or kick. He’s started running to mummy and daddy now though and pointing at where I’ve hurt him, my cover’s going to be well and truly blown when he starts talking.

Depending on the day I’ll either have a proper dinner or a snack tea. My favourite is pasta with olives, no sauce or cheese – just plain. I also like egg fried rice with bits in. More often that not though, mummy gives us a chocolate chip brioche and then to make up for the lack of nutrition, I think they call it mum guilt, she usually bungs us a bowl of fruit as well. Sometimes if we’re really lucky we might even get fridge raiders, cocktail sausages and some crisps.
Then it’s pyjamas on and bed. It’s at this point that I like to have a little paddy about going up to bed. I’m absolutely bloody knackered after a day at school but I can’t help myself. I usually manage to bribe about five more minutes downstairs, sometimes they make me read my school books – some days I’m in the mood, others I just can’t be arsed and would rather watch other kids opening LOL eggs or driving cars around shopping malls.
I then go up in a huff, have a wee, wash my hands, brush my teeth and then beg to go to sleep in mum and dad’s bed. The answer is always no, but it’s my one last resistance to them before I lay my head on the pillow and fall asleep in about three seconds flat.