My 'Back to Blogging' campaign (day 2) is already struggling, since the domestic nature of my life leaves me short of material. The most exciting thing that happens to me on a Tuesday being a visit to the 'Feckity* Mums & Toddlers Group'. *Feckity being the village where I live. That's not its real name.

The Mums & Toddlers Group meets in Feckity Village Hall where lots of well-used toys are dragged out each week and you pay a princely £1.50 for the privilege of having a sit down while your child runs about and plays. Although for about the first six months Smudger, who is a shy and retiring type like his mama *cough*, spent his visits to the group clinging to my kneecaps and howling profusely if I dared to, say, make myself a cup of coffee, or speak to anyone.

However he is now a little more confident and wanders around gawping at all the more boisterous kids, occasionally treating himself to a little go on the baby slide or a 'boun, boun' on the trampoline, but mostly running for the door (Smudge has a door fetish. Opening them. Closing them. Going through them. Going through them the other way. Endless fun.)

Anyway it’s a nice informal group but last week I thought we’d try somewhere different. I have seen advertised all over the locality sessions for young children run by ‘Musical Molly’. That’s not her real name. So I thought we’d give it a go, as Smudge likes a bit of a singsong and boogie.

However it turns out that Musical Molly’s is some kind of nightmarish cult. On arrival we were forced to wear stickers with our names on and directed to a specified cushion against the wall. Musical Molly opened the session by announcing “We have some new children with us today”, peering scarily over the top of her glasses at Smudge. Everybody then sang Musical Molly’s ‘Hello’ song. We didn’t join in because we didn’t know it. Nor did we know the rest of Musical Molly’s special songs, so we pretty much sat in silence. All the children had to sit nicely in a circle and anyone who didn’t was soundly and publicly reprimanded. Now, Smudge isn’t really one for sitting nicely for any length of time; I didn’t think any under-2 would be, but all the other children did, so either Smudge is a badly brought up rebel or else all the other children have been grossly indoctrinated into Musical Molly’s ways. We were allowed to stand up and pretend to be penguins at one point, but Smudge refused to co-operate. In fact after the first ten minutes he started making for the door as usual. However I feared he would be subjected to public humiliation for his disobedience and was forced to pin him down. Musical Molly had, at this point, lined up a row of cuddly penguins in size order and was calling selected children by name to come and hold a penguin. The children obediently started picking off the penguins (smallest first, as directed). Noticing Smudge attempting to wrestle free from my grasp, Musical Molly said “Smudge – would you like a penguin?”

He didn’t need a second invitation. Racing to the centre of the room he seized King Penguin from his perch at the far end of the line, leaving the other smaller penguins rolling around in disarray. There was an audible intake of breath from Musical Molly, and discernible tutting among the cult members. But Smudge didn’t care. He charged back to me pleased as punch waving his penguin and shouting “Mum! Doggy!”

I don’t think we’ll go back this week.