Having just spotted Gappy's forthcoming bad mother carnival, I felt the sudden urge to throw a post together and get a recent bad mother moment off my chest.
Not the time I sent my daughter, at the sensitive age of five, to school in her uniform to find the rest of the class dressed up in elaborate costumes for World Book Day.
Not the time (yesterday in fact) when I sent my child to school on one of the hottest days of the year wearing absolutely no sun cream and had to 'borrow' some from a responsible parent.
But the time, this very weekend, when I was so engrossed in the fabulous line-up of writing guides in Waterstones, Stratford-upon-Avon, that I had no idea where my child was or what she was going.
I'd like to say that she was doing anything other than walking around the shop with my camera taking random shots of customers trying to quietly choose a book.
I'd like to say she did not catch her mother on film, oblivious to child's behaviour, during her photography spree.
I would like to say that at the end of all this she did not produce a copy of Loose Women with a bright pink sparkly cover and tell me it looked like an exciting bedtime read.
For the record, we didn't buy it.
Also for the record, I do know where my child is at this precise moment in time.
