Confession of a terrible mum

Last week the boy and I had caught a terrible dose of man flu, we were coughing, sneezing and feeling pretty rubbish all round.  He soldiered on with a smile, being the happy little camper he always is, albeit with a stream of glistening snot.  I however crumbled, brought to my knees by germs and self pity.  

On one particular day (I cannot be specific for legal reasons) the baby was still snotty but seemed a lot happier, however, I was basically dead so after lunch I gave him a nice big spoonful of calpol, a lovely bottle and plonked him into bed.  I have to admit he wasn't quite asleep, or even close to going to sleep, so I went up and gave him monkey (his new best friend) in the vain hope that they would entertain each other.  To begin with they were chatting away together, probably discussing when they should put a call into social services, but after a while (quite a while) it went reassuringly quite and then came the gentle lull of snot filled snoring.  

He slept that afternoon for a good 3 hours and I, mother of the year, sat on the sofa eating jaffa cakes and watching tennis.  Now, I ask you... what would supernanny say?????