In we went. The doctor tells me that toddlers are prone to constipation. Attentive readers will be aware that this is a problem for the Princess at the moment. It’s a classic thing for her age. Superb. He drew diagrams, he chatted, he asked me to prepare an Excel table for our next appointment (he’s obsessed with Excel and its potential). Throughout this the Princess sobbed convulsively and clung to me pathetically. When she discovered that he planned to examine her, she nearly choked with rage and distress. It was all a bit grim. Anyhow, you’ll be delighted to hear that she thinks the medicine prescribed is delicious and all is improving, so we may not have to go for a scan after all. Mr. Waffle and I have been debating whose fault this situation might be.
Me: “Well, I’m not anally retentive.”
Him: “Well, whose sister was toilet trained at 9 months?”
1-1 at the moment.
on 07 February 2005 at 17:03
Pog, no, no, my sister is the one who was toilet trained at nine months. FT unworthy!
on 14 February 2005 at 11:39
Oops. Sorry. I got that the wrong way round, huh? Just don’t tell him, okay?
on 16 February 2005 at 21:34
Too late, I fear.