Our flat is soooo small, we don’t have room for a kitchen table. Well, that’s a lie. We do have enough room, but Mommy would have to give up her clothesdryer, and the thought of not having fluffy towels or jeans is something she finds intolerable.
Most mornings, Mommy eats her breakfast after I eat mine. She’s quite the sneaky one as she always eats it standing up, and I can’t ‘ave a good poke to see what kind food she has fixed.
A couple of years ago, American Granny sent Mommy a care package, and part of the shipment contained 5 bottles of Aunt Jemima lite pancake syrup. Over the years Mommy has been taking good care of her syrup and she still has nearly two whole bottles left!
When I was only 4 days old, Auntie Jeannine popped over to our place for a visit. She’s a German lady and for some reason, she’s reeeeeal familiar with American food products.
Mommy was in the kitchen making me some lunch, and as she opened a cupboard, Auntie saw the stash of syrup. She exclaimed, “Mmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmmm, Aunt Jemima syrup! Yum yum yum (smack smack smack, and a belly rub)!” Afterwards Mommy became very paranoid, and for the next two weeks she began to have strange dreams.
Mommy eventually told Daddy about Auntie Jeannine smacking her lips at the sight of her syrup. In Mommy’s dream, Auntie Jeannine grabbed a whole bottle of syrup, stuck it under her shirt and tried to sneak out the front door. When Mommy called her on it, a massive catfight ensued. During the fight, the bottle of syrup ruptured and soon after both ladies were covered in sticky, sweet, gooiness. At this point Daddy started to get verrry interested in Mommy’s story.
Daddy thought long and hard about Mommy’s dream. Eventually he decided to ask her, “In your dream, were you wearing clothes?” Mommy responded, “Oh yes, we were fully clothed.”
Silly answer, Mom! Daddy lost interest in trying to help Mommy out with her dream’s interpretation. The meaning is still a great big mystery. Sigh.
Today Mommy, Me, Anna and Louis ventured out to Brighton. We didn’t go for any particular reason, but while we were schlepping around the mall, I reminded Mommy I needed new shoes. Luckily there was a Clark’s nearby, so all of us popped in to have a look.
Clark’s has two kinds of baby shoes: cruisers and walkers. Their cruisers are damned ugly, and three of the four styles on offer were stinky pink. Last year we bought me the least offensive pair, the purple ones, and I was sooooo happy with my flash pair of winnies.
Cruising baby shoes have flexible, mushy soles. They sorta feel like your feet are sloppily contained in room temperature baked potatoes. The walkers have hard soles, and you can’t feel the floor through them when you’re standing in them. Both varieties of shoes make Daddy want to cry when I kick him sarf of the river.
Clark’s shoe store in Brighton’s Churchill Square has a top floor that’s completely dedicated to kids. It’s surprisingly spacious, with plenty of groovy seating and fluorescent lighting.
The saleslady measured my feet while Mommy was scoping out the shoes they had to offer. Then the bomb dropped. The sales lady told Mom I needed more cruising shoes because I couldn’t walk unaided. I was so insulted!
I climb on and off our couch. I walk around our sittingroom constantly, and it’s just a matter of time before I’m standing unaided and shouting, “I’m Queen of the Room!” That lady wanted me to wear her ugly cruisers for another month? I DON’T THINK SO!
I was momentarily speechless, and Mom came to my rescue:
Saleslady: She isn’t walking yet and I highly recommend getting her another pair of cruisers.
Mommy: But she walks in shoes about 2% of the day. Most of the time she’s indoors, barefoot and walking and climbing on our furniture like a monkey.
SL: That’s nice, but she needs a pair of cruisers. Obviously it is ultimately your choice.
Mommy: But your cruisers are ugly!
SL: Tut tut. Your baby could lose confidence in her ability to walk and could regress back into a foetus. How would you like that, Missy?!
All of a sudden the saleslady, who is 55ish, began to huff and purse her lips. Apparently my great granny in the US makes the same fuss when she doesn’t feel like she’s being listened to. This display made Mommy temporarily homesick and she smiled.
Mommy: Oh fine, I’ll get the ugly cruisers.
SL: Good. You have made the best choice for your baby, madam.
Mommy: Nah, I lied. I want the cute ones.
As we were purchasing my new shoes, the lady wrote “not walking” on the receipt. She said Clark’s was very particular about baby shoes, and she was compelled to rub it in my face that I wasn’t a completely independent walker yet. Meanie!
Hello everyone, I’m back!
I was forced into taking a break for a couple of months.
Typically when I want to post an entry for my blog, Mom gets down on all fours in front of her desk and Daddy sits me on Mom’s back. At that level I’m at the precise height I need to be in order to use my Mac. Well, Mom got depressed last September and she had the nerve to tell me I was treating her like a bloody serf, and she wasn’t going to put up with it anymore!
Anyway, I’m currently not teething right now and I’m generally trying to be nicer to Mom. Our lives have gotten much better since we located another lady and her 10-month-old boy a couple of streets away from us. Louis is soooooooo funny and I can’t wait until he’s flopping about and screaming, “Oi you!,” to everyone who walks by.
We received other visitors during Christmas. The Skimpies flew all the way over from New Zealand! They all stopped by one night, we ordered some Chinese food and Sophie, Lucas and I played non-stop for 3 hours! That night was a blast and I reeeeeeeally hope we see them next year.
For a while I was really worried about getting behind on my writings, and not being able to recollect my thoughts completely for you. I have decided to resume my posts for this brand spanking new year and periodically refer back to past events with a bit of background.
So sit back and enjoy the read!
P.S. Below is a little taste of Christmas torture for you. What were my parents thinking? Have they no shame?
