Today, The Baby has had her injections and is a little out of sorts.
“She might get a rash or temperature, or have very sore arms and legs,” says the nurse. “Just give her some Calpol.”
Calpol is the answer to everything it seems. From past experience, Mummy is sure she could take The Baby to the doctor with a partially severed limb, and she’d be prescribed Calpol.
The Baby is not herself, but there is no rash or temperature. Maybe her arms and legs hurt, but she can’t talk so she cannot tell Mummy whether or not this is the case. The only symptom The Baby has seems to be acute sensitivity to ABSOLUTELY BLOODY EVERYTHING.
The Baby loves bubbles. Bubbles make The Baby giggle. Mummy blows one too many bubbles. IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD!
The Baby loves biscuits. Mummy is letting her have biscuits. Mummy is sitting next to The Baby and passing her delicious little apple and cinnamon Annabel Karmel mini baby biscuits with her right hand. Mummy passes one with her left hand. IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD!!
The Baby loves music. Mummy is playing her very favourite album of happy-tinny-baby-boppy-music that she listens to all the time and The Baby is loving it. The phone rings and spoils the music. IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD!!!
It is cold and Mummy puts The Baby’s coat on. Also her shoes, which she loves because they are new. Then Mummy gives her her blanket, which she also loves but now she CAN’T SEE HER SHOES! IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD!!!!
The day continues in the fashion, much to Mummy’s exasperation, and Mummy threatens to sell The Baby on eBay more than once but doesn’t as she’d only have to issue a refund and would still have to pay listing fees and postage.
And so it is that Rebel Baby ends up eating her dinner all alone in the very centre of the kitchen, because being able to touch any of the four sides or having Mummy on a chair anywhere near her was COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE. Her dinner consists of peas on a tray, because bowls and plates were COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE, and ALL other food was a TOTAL INSULT. Now, the little dictator has got her way and Mummy has retreated to the other side of the breakfast bar. RB is content to first squash and then eat each individual pea, at a painfully slow pace, talking to each one as it goes in.
Mummy is not sure what has happened today. She will attempt to reclaim some form of authority tomorrow. In the meantime, she is scrutinising the small print on the bottle of Calpol to see if also cures despotism. Probably does…