Do you also have a mannosaurus at home?

Sometimes I suddenly realise that a prehistoric lizard is sitting next to me on the sofa. Sometimes a scaly animal climbs over our chaos of children without noticing. Sometimes I just get a grunt in response to a simple, nicely meant question. From my mannosaurus.

I actually married a modern man: born in 1973, from France. He has stubble, charm and a biting sense of humour that makes the children and me laugh even when life is at its most stressful.

I actually married a modern man.

He makes creamy, cheesy quiche to sit down with and a divine chocolate mousse - he doesn't care about waistline fat. He even takes me shopping for the perfect pair of shoes. When I wear them, he calls me «ma chérie adorée mignonne» and I float, even if the new shoes pinch.

From man to mannosaurus

Actually a dream specimen. Only every now and then it turns into a mannosaurus without any warning. How do I notice that? Well ...

... a mannosaurus doesn't talk, it grunts: When I ask him if we want to go out for Italian food, I hear «hmmmm». That's a good way to make decisions together. If I want to know how his day was, I hear «tsssgrmpffff». I see. If I dare to suggest that he could put the washing away, I get a threatening «äägrrrrrrrr». He obviously doesn't want to. My Mannosaurus thinks it's worst when I say: «You, we need to talk». Then even his grunting falls silent.

... a mannosaurus hardly cares about his offspring: our children can walk across the table and benches inside with all their pent-up energy, but he doesn't notice. When I send everyone outside, my mannosaurus gets dressed for a jungle expedition. The children stay in their T-shirts in the downpour. Why? «No-one can remember who owns which jacket!» he grumbles. In the playground, Dad checks his mobile phone while the children crash off the climbing tower next to him. They're not flying dinosaurs, nobody told him. You don't have to spoil them either.

... a mannosaurus lets its cave fall into disrepair: The mannosaurus really likes its cave for relaxing, sleeping and eating. But cleaning the cave all the time? Nope, let's be honest. Free worktop space in the kitchen is totally overrated, there's plenty of room for dirty dishes. A dinosaur can easily overlook crumpled washing on the floor. His towels dry just as well on the bathroom floor. And the mucky socks in the entrance? Hello, have you ever heard of dinosaur scent marks? That's pure territorial defence!

... a Mannosaurus drags its prey home, but nothing more: My Mannosaurus goes hunting with gusto, even in a suit if necessary. It regularly drags home enough to eat. But more than that, commitment? Please, such a poor, exhausted prehistoric animal needs to switch off completely. The giant animal rests its scaly feet on the sofa and is neither responsive nor does it move. Extinct? Maybe!

... a mannosaurus has a shrunken brain: it is a giant dinosaur with a chicken brain. And even that is not always switched on. Planning, thinking ahead, questioning, organising - yes, maybe even keeping several balls in the air at the same time? Impossible. Simple linear links work: Loot - get it done. Rubbish - take it out. Crying child - snapping at it. Anything more complex is definitely not possible. Sorting and putting out the rubbish the night before? Planning food, activities or siestas for the child so that they stay reasonably happy? Far too difficult for dinosaurs in Simpel mode.

As much as I love my modern husband, I struggle with the mannosaurus. If it wasn't a teeny bit illegal, I'd get a tranquilliser gun tomorrow and kill him. It would be taxidermied and stuffed in the natural history museum. With a big sign in front of it: "Mannosaurus. Warning: Temporarily unsuitable for sharing caves and rearing young dinosaurs!"

"Mannosaurus. Warning: Temporarily unsuitable for sharing caves and raising young dinosaurs!"

That's what he would get out of it. Unfortunately, it doesn't work. Arguing with the mannosaurus or exploding doesn't help either. I've tried that often enough. I can talk my head off. I can hop around red like Rumpelstiltskin and scream. I can throw plates and threaten divorce. My Saurus remains Saurus until the modern man in him suddenly reappears of his own accord.

So all I can do is get through his primeval phases without completely unnerving myself. Simply leaving the cave for a few hours helps. The young animals are robust, they will survive. Laughing with other female mannosaurs about these strange, annoying little animals also relaxes me wonderfully.

And most of the time, when I come back, our den has been tidied up. The offspring have been fed and washed and are lying well-behaved in bed. There you go, it works! And a completely normal man smiles at me: «Enfin, là voilà, ma chérie adorée!»

Tell me, am I crazy - isn't he a temporary mannosaurus after all? Am I perhaps a permanently fussy, perfectionist, nagging, annoying mamasaurus? Rubbish. Dinosaurs are long extinct, or what's it like for you?

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Read more from Ulrike Légé:

• A holiday just for mum.
  And even while the family is away. Is that possible? And how does it feel? Ulrike Légé has tried it out.
• Ulrike Légé's husband dreams of intelligent sockets.
  She herself would rather automate completely different things in the house.