The greatest joy

Rebel Baby has a cold. A really bad one. The sort that has a permanent stream of gunge leaking from her eyes, nose, ears and mouth in an absolutely disgusting manner.

Although Mummy was aware of the symptoms of a common cold, she was not prepared for how they would manifest in an infant. The noises… oh the noises! It does not seem possible for something so small and angelic to make such unearthly noises simply by breathing. The spluttering, wheezing, drowning, gurgling, snuffling noises, which at night remind Mummy so vividly of zombies in The Walking Dead that she has to sleep with the lights on.

Before Mummy had a baby, she wondered why people always seem to leave their kids covered in snot and don’t just wipe their noses more often… but now she gets it. It seems that unless you stand there with a tissue permanently stuck to their face, the slime slugs replace themselves at such a rate that there is no possible way to keep up with them. After a few hours of trying, you just give in and pretend not to notice that they’re actually drinking the stuff.

And of course, drinking litres of gunge inevitably has an effect of one’s digestive system… an effect Mummy did not notice until it was dripping out of the highchair onto the kitchen floor.

By lunchtime, Mummy has changed The Baby twice and herself once and is half way through the second load of laundry. Rebel Baby thanks Mummy by wanting to be with her ALL THE TIME and protests about being laid down by ceasing to breathe.

Now, although all of this is quite foul and repulsive enough to put any sane person off ever having children, there is one great secret Mummy has discovered which is so utterly joyous and fulfilling, it makes it all worthwhile. It is not the little one coming to Mummy for medicinal snuggles, nor falling asleep on Mummy’s chest with her little fingers stroking Mummy’s hair. All of this is very lovely indeed, but really just a ploy to use Mummy as a giant tissue. Mummy can see through that.

No, the greatest joy Mummy has ever encountered comes in the form of a marvellous device called a Nasal Aspirator.

There are many of these contraptions on the market, but Mummy owns the very finest one of all. Not for her is the little balloon-sucker, which puffs out the odd bit of residual snot. No, Mummy went forth and purchased a fully functioning snot-siphon. When fully assembled, this most wonderous implement is inserted into The Precious One’s nostril and then, from a safe distance by means of tube and filter, Mummy is able to suck great volumes of mucus from deep within her nasal cavities… possibly beyond.

So great is the satisfaction gleaned from partaking in this daily excavation that Mummy approaches The Baby each morning and evening with a look of sadistic glee, hoping to exceed her previous records for snot-sucking success. Rebel Baby, bemused and bewildered by Mummy’s strange obsession, for once puts up little resistance and seems grateful for the thorough service being provided. She can now breathe freely and quietly, and Mummy can sleep peacefully without the lingering fear of zombies approaching.

Mummy is working on blueprints for an adult-sized version she can use on Daddy…


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