The Halcyon Visitation

So my baby sister is coming to visit with me today, with my three nieces, and taking DD away for Hallowe'en weekend. This is all cool, as I actually quite like my sister, and I guess her girls are OK too.

What is not cool is that she has decided that not only do I need to get a life, I need to get out more. She tells me her girls are going to babysit, and that she has formed the intention of dressing me in her idea of going-out clothes and dragging me out for a night on the town. I love her dearly, but she's a Bling Ho', and I'm a Laura Ashley (on those days when I can kick my Frumpy Mummy alter-ego under the bed): no way on this earth would I wear her kind of clothes, let alone be seen in public in them. OK, it is Hallowe'en, but her costumes don't come with a mask, and I don't want to be asked for my tariff.

In vain have I protested that if she wants to make me really happy, take me out to eat, although I'd be content with a takeaway pizza. If you want to make me really, really happy, come with me to the local knitting group that I can never go to because I don't have a babysitter. And then, what would be great, would be to come back with a couple of bottles of wine, a crappy chick flick, and to sit and chew the fat with her and my nieces, of whom I see all too little. If you want to make me ecstatic, falling-down-talking-in-tongues happy - take both my kids for the weekend, not just the one I don't get enough time with already, and let me have adult time with my DH uncontaminated by any child.

Unfortunately, my sister is almost as stubborn as me. The key word there is almost. So I'm looking forward to a cosy girls night in.