Playing football in the garden with an uncoordinated child.
You may as well just smash the greenhouse up now, trample the plants and fall out with your neighbours.
Washing a pre-teen boy’s bedding.
Strap on the marigolds and get yourself some horse blinkers, because you really don’t want to see anything that looks like a liquid map of Africa. Personally, when I am entering the forbidden zone to retrieve pre-teen bedding, I wear the same flame retardant suit used by Formula 1 mechanics.
For a clean retrieval, it’s best to pull the under-sheet away like a 70’s illusionists whipping off a table cloth, and then hold the bedding at arms length (the same length away from your body that you would hold someone else’s baby who has just had a massive poo) before stuffing it all in the washer.
Top Tip. If anything smears on you, best to just think of that part of your body as dead from now on.
Being ignored by a parent you said hello to just the day before.
You could donate a kidney to some parents and they’d still give you the cold shoulder 24 hours later.
I don’t know whether it’s because we are in a playground setting, but some parents see it as an opportunity to act childishly by ignoring you. It does leave them in a predicament though when they have to pass you to get out of the school, so they pretend to be engrossed with what their child is saying to avoid your gaze, which is much harder than just saying hello, I should know, I’ve done it plenty of times myself.
Paintings magnetised to the fridge reach critical mass.
I am in constant fear that the sheer weight of paintings stuck to my fridge will make the 10 ton cooler tip over, or worse, that the one Lightwater Valley fridge magnet holding it all on will eventually give up the ghost and the whole lot will be released, turning my kitchen into a scene from a presidential ticker tape parade.