The World's Worst Mothers Read Online Free PDF Page A

Because only happy children grow up into happy adults who can give something to the world, who can creatively engage …’
    Sven-Ole wasn’t listening any more. Why did the boss not just say straight out what on earth it was that he wanted from them? There wasn’t even anything to drink on the table and not as much as a few dry biscuits to eat. He squinted at his watch and got a disapproving look from Ramona Bottle. Yeah, well, every word that dropped from Wohlfarth’s lips was music to her ears. Everyone in the factory used to laugh at her. It really was funny how moonstruck she’d been. And she was supposed to be engaged at the time. Her fiancé had broken it off because all she did was waffle on about Wohlfarth. And here she was again, gazing at him as if she were a sheep and he a nice juicy bunch of grass. Baa, baa.
    A new joke occurred to him: if a shepherd beats his sheep, does that make him a baaaad person? He had to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing out loud.
    Even Vibke Paulsen found it hard to concentrate on Wohlfarth’s ramblings. Her husband wouldn’t be one bit pleased if she went back to work. He’d got used to her being at home all day, making sure there was always a beer in the fridge and that his underpants were nicely folded in his drawer. At the same time, the extra money would come in handy. Three of their beach chairs had been swept out to sea in the last storm. But what use were they anyway when there were no holidaymakers any more? She sighed loudly.
    â€˜And what do you think, Frau Paulsen?’ asked Wohlfarth, annoyed at this interruption.
    â€˜You’re quite right,’ said Vibke Paulsen, nodding her head vigorously. ‘Making children happy is …’
    â€˜â€¦ the most honourable task that a person can devote themselves to,’ Wohlfarth completed the sentence.
    Sven-Ole understood only one word of this: task.
    â€˜I’d be delighted to have something to do other than carting sheep to the mainland,’ he said.
    Wohlfarth sat up. ‘Right. From now on, you are all working for me again.’
    Ramona Bottle cast an irritated look around the room.
    â€˜What am I supposed to write your letters with, Herr Wohlfarth?’
    The little desk behind which she had sat for many years attending to the business correspondence was bare. No computer, not even a typewriter on it.
    â€˜I didn’t see any trucks outside, boss,’ said Sven-Ole. ‘Just the little pick-up.’
    â€˜And will you be employing people to sew?’ asked Vibke Paulsen. ‘Only my niece has been looking for something for ages –’
    Wohlfarth made a dismissive hand gesture. ‘No, no, I have obviously not made myself clear. It’s not about producing toys. It’s something quite different. It’s about a mission! My mission!’

Chapter 5
    â€˜What would you like for mother’s day?’ asked Bruno at lunch.
    There was spinach ravioli with cheese sauce. He took a second helping. Boxers need their carbohydrates – he knew that. Pasta was just the thing.
    â€˜Have you not had enough, darling?’ asked his mother with a frown.
    â€˜No,’ said Bruno, stuffing three ravioli into his mouth all at the same time. He knew what was coming.
    â€˜You eat far too quickly. You should wait until the feeling of being full has set in –’
    â€˜It takes twenty minutes for your stomach to realise it’s full,’ said Bruno, licking his lips and finishing the sentence. ‘But I don’t want to wait that long.’
    His mother didn’t always seem to wait until her stomach informed her that it was full, either. She wasn’t exactly slim.
    â€˜What about mother’s day?’ asked Bruno again. ‘Dad will probably buy you flowers, but I could bring you breakfast in bed.’
    â€˜Oh, please, no! Last time you did that, everything ended up on the duvet cover. The juice