My purse is empty. Well that’s not strictly speaking true. There’s half-a-tree’s worth of receipts, a similar quantity of money off coupons (most of which will turn out to be either out of date or for products I have not the slightest intention of buying), far too many coffee shop loyalty cards (with only one stamp on the, some duplicated) and some plastic.

What it does not contain is cash. Not a note or a coin worth more than 5p (although there are several of them meaning I may have as much as 43p to my name).

I carefully empty out everything onto the kitchen table in the forlorn hope there may be a note or two stuck between the folds of a receipt or perhaps some coins have migrated into the lining.

Nothing. Nada. Nichts zu sehen.

How can this be? Have I been robbed? Has someone crept into my home, carefully selected my purse, removed all the decent dosh (ignoring the credit and debit cards) and carefully replaced it so I remain blissfully unaware of the event?

Sadly I fear I have to accept that I have simply spent all the money since the last time I ventured to a cash machine two days ago.

I have sent into school £7 for each of two children so they can buy a book from the booksale, the commission on which is about the only way the school can afford new books under the current funding arrangements.

I have also in the same week sent in £2 each for two children so they can buy a Mother’s Day gift from the PTA. I shall probably be manning the stall and will need to complete the transaction without observing what they have purchased.

Then there was parking for taking them to activities. Plus a Subway tea because quite frankly I would rather shell out than spend 45 minutes in a car with a rabidly hangry child (not a typo – Google it), let alone her sister who is more likely to be travel sick with an empty stomach. (Great design feature there).

And quite probably too many visits to coffee shops. And grabbing one or two or twelve forgotten items from the Tesco on the way home from school.

So, not really a mystery at all.

Case closed.

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science.

Albert Einstein

Children are strange, mysterious and beautiful creatures and in this blog I’m going to address some of their more mysterious ways. I’m going to attempt to answer questions such as “Why does it always have to be Mummy?”, “Why can they not find the laundry basket and instead leave socks at random locations around the house?” or “What’s wrong with that biscuit?”.

I’m a mother of three, two girls and a boy, and I’d love to hear about your mysteries so don’t hesitate to comment. Until next time…

The plot thickens….