Tomorrow I Am Taking A Lover

Tomorrow I am taking a lover.
Why? Because I CAN.
My youngest child is starting creche, my two big kids will be at camp before starting school the following week, and I will have time to myself for the first time in TWO YEARS. Time to do anything I like. Write. Read. Go for a walk. Get a hair cut. Or find a handsome man to come over and ravish me while my husband is at work.
If I like.
Of course, the day may not necessarily pan out like that. The way I see it, there are several possible scenarios:

1. I take my baby into creche. She sobs when I try to leave. I sob when I try to leave. The carers spend ten minutes prising us apart with heavy machinery developed especially for that purpose*, and I spend the rest of the day paralytic with grief, prostrate on my bed, until the moment it is time to pick her up again.
2. I take my baby into creche. She smiles and waves when I try to leave. I sob when I try to leave. I still spend the rest of the day paralytic with grief, only this time I feel a bit silly, as the carers assure me (every fifteen minutes when I ring) that my baby is perfectly cheery and having an absolutely delightful time.
3. I take my baby into creche. I decide it was all a horrible mistake and take her straight home again.
4. I take my baby into creche. I decide it was all a horrible mistake and try to take her home again, but she cries and says 'No mummy! Want kindy!' and I am forced to shamefacedly return her to the centre.
5. I take my baby into creche. We both sob a little and then we both recover and I go home to my 26 year old Italian lover Paolo**. Though I cannot actually go through with cheating on my husband, I do allow Paolo to fulfill his favourite sexual fantasy, which is to clean my house and prepare me food whilst dressed in nothing but a pair of black Bonds. After watching him vacuum and mop in his undies, I enjoy an excellent spaghetti puttanesca before picking up my calm, happy children.
6. I take my baby into creche. We both sob a little and then we both recover and I go home. I clean, do the washing, prepare some schnitzel for dinner, and wonder if I'll ever have time to get my hair cut.

Will keep you posted.
*"Maternal Bond Severance Equipment" or the like.
**Name changed to protect privacy***.
***Okay, name made up to give impression he actually exists.