Apparently small children are very sensitive and know when there’s something going on. Well, I think the Princess may either have worked out a) that I’m pregnant and her days as an only child are numbered or b) that we’re going to Paris for the weekend leaving her to the tender mercies of our (excellent) babysitter. Whatever it is, she is like a briar at the moment. Take the other morning.
7.00 Princess wakes singing to herself in her cot.
7.05 I go to get her up. She stops singing and wails pitifully “No, Mama, Papa, PAPA”.
7.10 Give her a bottle and hand her over to her father for breakfast while hopping into the shower myself. Hear from the fastness of the shower shrieks of unhappiness from the other room where the Princess is doubtless having her will thwarted in some cruel and unusual fashion (I don’t know, perhaps her father is refusing to let her throw porridge on the walls).
7.30 Suggest to herself that she might like to get dressed. She is against. Read “T’choupi likes the rain” together on the understanding that after this one story, she will get dressed.
7.40 Princess does not have the same understanding of our deal and brings over a small pile of T’choupi books. She is deeply displeased that I will not read them and shows her displeasure by howling lustily.
7.45 Lure her to the bathroom by promising to let her brush her teeth. Avert my eyes as she attempts to eat the entire tube of strawberry flavoured toothpaste we have purchased.
7.50 Wrest toothpaste from her and carry her howling, kicking and carrying 4 books to the bedroom.
7.55 World ends because books fall on floor.
8.00 Infant successfully picks up books. An instant of happiness. Infant insists on father sitting to read one. Father, hard hearted monster, refuses to do so. Deep and loud unhappiness.
8.05 Parents run around the house after small howling toddler. Pin her down, change nappy and put on t-shirt. All 3 parties somewhat dishevelled and exhausted.
8.15 Father capitulates and reads story. Mother surreptitiously puts on infant’s dress, tights and shoes.
8.25 Nameless angst grips our child. She is unable to tell us what is wrong. She gets her doggy and throws herself on our bed weeping and demanding to get under the covers and nap. We tell her that it is time for the creche. Wrong answer. Would it be ok if we put on her cardigan? No it would not.
8.30 Royal mood improves on sighting of Sheepsie. Doggy can be removed and returned to his sleeping place.
8.31 Infant notices that washing machine is on. Insists on watching it “wash, wash” while held by mother for safety.
8.36 Mother tires of washing machine experience and encourages father to transport infant and Sheepsie downstairs. Deep, deep unhappiness. We would like to watch the washing machine all day. Distraught
parents are presented with infant sobbing her heart out.
8.37 Hard heartedly leave house all the same and head off in car. Her highness demands to see her friend toddler L. Request refused. Unhappiness. Her highness demands a bottle. Request refused due to
lack of bottle. Unhappiness. Some mild singing is engaged in but mood is not good.
9.00 Arrive at creche. Hold Princess up to bang on fish tank and scare unfortunate fish who live out their existence with 15 small children. Hand her over to N. who is fresh as a daisy but, frankly, won’t be
after a day with our girl. Mother and father struggle into respective offices exhausted wrecks. And there’s more of that in the evening.
Aren’t full time parents absolutely fantastic?
on 13 May 2005 at 15:40
*reconfirms plans to hold off on the kids for a long while*
Well at least she’s full of beans.
That has to be worth something.
Right? 
on 13 May 2005 at 19:26
JD, you’re not the only one. I know, Norah, dreadful stuff. Locotes, um, yes, I suppose. You should get back to the studying so’s you’ll be able to afford fancy childcare in due course.
on 13 May 2005 at 19:48
That’s probably the best reason yet to convince me to study – many thanks.
*runs to notes*