Hilarious tales from triplet mum Lorraine Anderson..

“You should write a book…” – lots of us have heard this from time to time but none as often as Lorraine Anderson. The mum of triplets from West Yorkshire has had more than her fair share of embarrassing situations and hilarious encounters due to her three children. Read on for a few of her memorable stories..


Number One, two, three …

When my triplets, Harry, Laura and George were 3 years old they ‘decided’ to ‘help’ me with the decorating. Big disaster as they pasted sections of the Argos catalogue onto newly papered walls … a diversion was called for, so off we went into the car to B&Q for yet more supplies.

As a mother of three, with one who is very mischievous and hyperactive, I am constantly counting heads. I was absolutely horrified when I only counted two and looked around for the third, George missing, a frantic search began but to no avail. The other two giggled constantly but would not tell me where he was.

‘George, where are you?’ I shouted, looking everywhere for him.

I heard a lady in the next aisle say, ‘That is disgusting!’ and I knew my search was nearly over!

‘George, where are you? What are you doing?’ I shouted from the other side of the aisle.

‘I am having a pooh that’s all.’ He replied matter of factly.

I nearly died as I turned the corner to find George with his Spiderman pants down at his ankles, sitting on the display toilet pushing until he was red in the face! But not as red as mine, I didn’t know where to look as by now there was a crowd gathering and it could not get any worse surely?

‘Mummy look here is a Barbie pink one.’ said Laura starting to sit on it.

‘Laura I have a blue one.’ replied Harry, pulling down his trousers, bare bum in full view as he contemplated ‘standing or sitting position’.

My cool exterior crumbled into full blown panic and hysteria as I shouted, ‘Get off quick they aren’t real toilets, for goodness sake don’t wee in them.’

‘Mum, I haven’t wee’d.’ said George. Thank goodness for small mercies ? ‘I have done a big pooh and it is massive … look’ he said proudly.  As I looked it total horror, I had to agree, it certainly was massive! How he ‘parted’ with it I will never know.

‘Yes darling, it is BIG, come on I will have to find someone to tell.’ How could this happen to me? Head up, I marched to the Information desk, with three giggling children in tow.

‘Are you proud of me mummy? Is that why you want to tell everyone about my pooh?’ Not quite but after all it was down the toilet and not in his pants,

‘Excuse me.’ I said to the pristine lady behind the desk, who was stood with someone fresh out of school who I took to be a trainee.

‘Hello Madam, I am Fiona and I am happy to help!’ (You won’t be in a minute I thought).

‘I am really very sorry but my little boy has had an ‘accident’ and I need something to clean up the ‘mess.’

‘Don’t worry Madam, I will get a mop.’ She said still smiling.

‘I am sorry, he has ‘done it’ on the display toilet’. I said helplessly, totally embarrassed.

‘It happens all of the time, I will get a tissue then’. She said.

‘My pooh’s massive you will need lots of toilet roll as it is the best one I have ever done.’ claimed George proudly.

‘Oh!’ was all ‘Fiona, happy to help’ could muster up.

I did offer to clean it up but the trainee was duly despatched to ‘learn the reality’ as Fiona put it! I left red faced never to return for a long time or so I hoped but the alarm went off as a tag was still on my purchase, thus setting off the alarm!

After returning to the till for it to be removed George saw THE toilet and shouted, ‘Look, I did a pooh on that one didn’t I Mummy?’

How could I be cross when faced with such innocent pride ?  We left quickly heads down and I knew it wouldn’t be long before the next unbelievable installment of life with my 3!

Chickens Might Fly!

My triplets were often in the garden playing. It had a six-foot fence all around which they couldn’t see over, but it did not stop them wondering what was on the other side. The grass is always greener as they say.

Among the various toys strewn across the garden was a plastic Wendy house and the boys in particular would spend many hours trying to climb onto the roof to see what was on the other side of the fence.  Although I’d seen them try many times, I had not witnessed any success in this department so I had no fear of them accomplishing the act!

On one particularly fine sunny day the kids who were aged 3 at the time and were playing happily together,  so I put the kettle on for a well deserved tea break when the door bell rang. Mary our neighbour (from the other side of the fence) stood at the door, I invited her in asked what she had done to her head as she was sporting a huge bandage.

She asked me if I had noticed anything missing? Confused I asked what she meant. Apparently my three little angels had managed to climb on the Wendy house roof and had proceeded to throw articles of my clean washing into her garden. She produced a bag with bras, pants, t-shirts and one of my shoes along with a frozen oven-ready chicken.

I thanked her for the return and said it was very kind of her to bring me a chicken. She then explained the connection between the chicken and the bandage on her head.  They had thrown that over the fence to see if a ‘dead chicken can fly’ but unfortunately Mary was gardening at the time and the frozen chicken had hit her on the head!

Fortunately she was ok if a little bruised. I was apologetic but so embarrassed, and thankfully she saw the funny side. I did think it was strange she moved soon after though…!

Golden Goose

When my triplets started attending the village nursery they were far from being a novelty.  The nursery staff were well schooled in multiples, my 3 were the 6th set of triplets they had seen. It appeared we lived in some kind of fertility hotspot!

Harry, Laura & George loved nursery and they were very pleased when it neared to Christmas, as the theme was The Golden Goose.

One day a kind old lady who had never seen triplets before gave them a pound coin to buy sweets. She gave it to Laura, but George snatched it off her, only to lose it straight away to Harry who took it from him and promptly swallowed it!

After nearly having to resuscitate the little old lady and assure her it was not her fault, I contacted the local hospital and was told to go to casualty. After a three hour wait, x-rays and examinations we returned home for the ‘coin to come out naturally’ as advised by the hospital. But it did not appear.  I am sure that I don’t have to explain the search, which was not very pleasant but it did keep the kids amused. There was however, still no coin.

Another call to the hospital who assured me it could take a few days! Days! Harry could ‘go’ for England, I dreaded another search let alone frequent ones!

At nursery the next day I explained our problem, and was assured that Harry would tell the teacher when he wanted to visit the toilet but soon after I received a call from the Head.

It turned out Harry had delighted in telling his friends, well actually the whole nursery, that he was in fact the ‘golden boy’? Like the Golden Goose, he could also produce gold, but pound coins and not eggs!

When he went to the toilet, the whole of the class followed and were ‘searching’ for the coin. I had to apologise to all of the parents, many who thankfully saw the funny side of the situation and keep Harry ‘off nursery’ until the coin eventually appeared two days later.

Red Paint and Red Faced

It was on holiday with my triplets, Harry, Laura & George at  Pontins holiday camp in Wales that one of the most embarrassing moments as a multiple mum occurred.  My dear husband Graham had disappeared into a shop when the kids shouted ‘I need a wee, NOW.’ and I had to make a mad dash for the toilets with three four year olds in tow.

To my horror the door had a bright red sign which was obviously freshly painted reading ‘Wet Paint Do Not Touch’. To three inquisitive four year olds this spelled danger with a capital D! Too late. George had already touched it and was proceeding to wipe it all over Laura’s white dress, while Harry was producing some very fine artwork in the form of handprints all over the wall. Where was Graham when I really needed him? I screamed for them to get to the sink as I tried frantically to scrub them clean, while George was crossed- legged dancing around the room. ‘If you need a wee George just go but don’t lock the door…’

I knew as soon as I said ‘lock’ it was a huge mistake. I saw him dash into the cubicle and heard him lock the door. ‘I can’t open it mummy.’ he cried, moments later when he wanted to come out.

‘Well crawl under into the next cubicle then.’ I replied (mistake number 2!) He proceeded to crawl under the cubicle into the next one and lock that door before moving along all 16 toilets! I could tell which cubicles were occupied from the gasps of disbelief but I never realised it could get worse!

‘George!’ I screamed ‘Come out right now or I will fetch Daddy.’ ‘Daddy is too big to play this game mummy.’ Came the reply. He finally got to the last cubicle but started to cry ‘Mummy get me out this big fat lady is having a smelly poo and I can’t breathe!’

I wished for the earth to swallow me whole but instead I had to wait for the ‘lady’ to finish and hand me my son, I couldn’t apologise enough but fortunately she saw the funny side!

‘Where have you been dear, I have been looking all over for you?’ asked my husband when we came out of the toilets.

‘To HELL AND BACK.’ came the frosty reply.

Comments are closed.