It is end of year school concert time and Dorothy reveals she has children ... Because she is a partner in a large law firm her children are incredibly talented

Have I mentioned that I have children?

It is easy to forget, when one sees them so infrequently.

Sightings are confined to the small chunks of time spared me by partners meetings and dinners and breakfasts and retreats and mentoring and coaching and work group meetings. And trips interstate. Oh, and clients.

I see my children at odd times of night when they should be asleep, and in the morning when I am in full screeching mode.

This, I find, is a useful way to facilitate getting them dressed, breakfasted, lunch boxed and, in conjunction with my spouse, off to the various institutions they attend.

I have a number of children. The number is higher than one but less than seven.

Do you remember when the current Governor General was investitured or whatever it is called and she appeared on the front page of The Australian, with her impeccably coiffed blonde hair and a red frock, girt by a multitude of matching blonde grandchildren, also frocked in red?

Well, my children do not look like that.

They consider themselves overdressed if they are wearing two thongs. As we were about to depart for a dinner party recently, the 13-year-old, exhorted by the traditional maternal screeching to put on some shoes, put on the only thong he could find.

They have, however, a bounty of nature's gifts.

The 10-year-old produced a pile of scrunched up paper which had clearly been reclining at the bottom of his school bag for some weeks. "These are your invitations to the end of year functions," he said.

He proffered the most decrepit piece of paper first. As he did so, his eyes widened, as they are wont to do in moments of alarm.

"This is the one for the Chinese end-of-year function," he said.

"I warn you. Do not go to it. If you thought the school musical was bad, you should not go to this. It will be so lame."

"Look," he went on, pointing to the program, and speaking over my protestations about the amusement value of the school musical. "There is a lion dance. I will tell you how bad it will be." 

He paused for dramatic effect and pointed to his chest.

"I," he said, "am the lion's arse".

Gifted and talented.

Later, spouse sent me a text from the end of year strings concert.

"Watching lion's arse play violin," it said.