MUMS only have one pair of hands. They tell us so all the time to underline how busy they are.

But, over the past six weeks, my wife hasn't even had one pair of hands. She's had to go through life single-handed after a shoulder operation left her in a sling.

This has resulted in a long programme of agonising physiotherapy.

It has meant quite a bit of pain for me too because she's been incapacitated.

She hasn't been able to wash-up, cook, dress herself (bra straps were always a mystery to me) or - worst of all - drive.

As if I wasn't already an unpaid taxi driver for the kids, I'm now her chauffeur too.

As well as running the kids around twice as much as before, I have to take her to and from work, and backwards and forwards to the shops.

It would be much quicker to do the supermarket shopping myself but she says I'm not up to it on my own.

"You'd get the wrong things," she said.

"Well, write it all down and draw me a map, showing where it all is," I

suggested. But she insisted it wouldn't work.

I'm the father of four children, hold down a responsible job and vote in elections but I'm not allowed into a supermarket on my own - even with written instructions.

So I have to drive home from work to pick her up, take her to Morrisons, spend ages figuring out how to unchain a trolley with a pound coin, push the trolley round for hours, pack the bags at the checkout, take her home again, unpack, then go back to work. Hell on earth.

But on Sunday, I was given the chance to strike a blow for male shopping freedom and credibility.

After weeks of no Sunday lunch, she finally felt that she could give it a go - albeit one-handed. She did a magnificent job too until she realised she didn't have any carrots.

I'll nip out and get some," I offered.

She thought about it for a few seconds and then agreed that I could go on my own to buy some carrots.

"How many do you need?" I asked.

"Work on the basis that we all eat about one good-sized carrot each - so get six," she replied.

Off I went to the village shop and swiftly found the carrots.

But then I was struck by a terrible dilemma: Were they (italics) good-sized (italics)?

I've never taken any real notice of carrots unless they were on a plate in front of me, so I couldn't gauge if they were big, small or average.

If I got it wrong, I'd never be trusted again.

So I asked the young male assistant for help: "Excuse me, are these carrots are good-sized?"

He clearly didn't know so he grabbed a carrot, held it up, and shouted

across to the bakery counter: "Brenda, are these carrots good-sized?"

Brenda came over and expertly eyed the carrots before declaring: "A bit on the small side."

It completely threw me.

If they weren't good-sized, how many should I get? I thought long and hard. If they were smaller than average, I'd definitely need more than six. But she'd said only "a bit on the small side" so I shouldn't get too many.

In the end, I plumped for eight on the grounds that there'd be an extra third of a carrot each.

"The carrots were on the small side so I got eight," I announced, hesitantly, when I got home.

"Mmm. They're a bit hairy, aren't they," she said.

What was I supposed to do - take a razor?

THINGS THEY SAY

JOAN Adams, of Eastbourne Homemakers in Darlington, recalled the time grandson Alfie, five, was having his dinner and was pushing his food around his plate.

"Are you going to eat that because if you're not, leave it and get down from the table," said his mum.

Alfie promptly put his hands together and said: "Please don't disturb me."

When he'd finishined and put his hands back down, he was asked what he'd been doing.

"I've been talking to God but he doesn't listen," he replied.

"I asked him to turn my dinner into sweets, then I might have been able to eat it."

A LITTLE girl called Devan, whose grandma - also from Eastbourne Homemakers - prefers to remain anonymous, asked her mum: "Was I born head first or feet first?"

"Head first - why?" replied her mum.

"I was just wondering how come you didn't choke me," said the little girl.

CAROLINE Bates, of Brookfield Ladies Group, Middlesbrough, recalled the time grandson George, aged six, had been talking about Lent at St Augustine's Primary School in Coulby Newham, Middlesbrough.

"I've decided to give up beefburgers," he announced.

"But you don't like beefburgers," replied his Mum.

"I know," said George, "but if I find myself fancying one, I just won't have it."

www.thisisthenortheast.co.uk/

dadatlarge/html

Published: 04/05/2006