Mum's here staying the night en route home from visit to friends. I popped out for the blink of an eye - to take ds to the docs - and came home to find her IN AN APRON, doing all the veg for dinner (joint of pork was already cooking) . When I say, helplessly, "Is there anything I can do?" she replies in the sort of voice you'd use to a teenager who does sod all, ever. "Yes! Lots! Tut!" and yet physically won't let me near the oven. She is whirling about the kitchen in state of high excitement, rather as you would be if volunteering to help in a shelter after Katrina, cooking magnificently slo-o-o-w-ly, while I and the kids die of hypoglycaemia. And dh is hissing: "This is just what it will be like at Christmas". And it will be. I'm being ever so mature and sulking upstairs. So - thought I'd just ask: AIBU?