My husband's band played a gig this weekend at a village fete. All of the significant others were in attendance. The Barmaid came with a friend of hers as well as Golden Boy (the Idiot's son with his ex-wife), The Bean (the Goddaughter) and the friend’s daughter, Skye, so we were transformed into a mobile baby sitting service. Fortunately, a bouncy castle was provided by management, which made matters simpler. As adults, trying to navigate a bouncy castle leads to extreme exhaustion, but for those still blessed with extreme youth, it is a place where they can bash their heads against the walls ALL DAY LONG to their heart’s content leaving responsible adults free to drink beer.
This, however, brings me to my miniature 6-point manifesto entitled:
1. Never EVER, accept anything from a small child without looking at it first. It will inevitably be a) something dead, b) something that has been in their mouth or c) something sticky, possibly because it’s been in their mouth. Here is a scenario.
Small, Cute Pudgy-Limbed Child: Here.
Me: Ok.
Child runs off.
Me: This is a partially chewed gummy bear.
I throw it on the ground only to step on it, barefooted, later.
2. Just because a baby has just unleashed their body’s weight in vomit all over their mother does not mean that they don’t have any left that has your name on it when they are handed to you.
3. They listen to you. They really do. If you say “cock sucker” chances are that’s the next thing out of their mouth in school on Monday morning. Luckily, this is a phenomenon that I WITNESSED rather than caused.
4. Want to put sun-block on a 3 year old? Be prepared to sit on them.
5. Why, oh why do children love the road? If there is a road within a square mile of them, they will be drawn to it like cats to crunchy pieces of paper. Whee, look at me! I am running gleefully to my own doom!
6. Feeding of children requires you to follow them around. Apparently, they are unable to ingest any sort of sustenance unless they are on the move. Here is a scenario:
Golden Boy: (running toward the road): Look at that car!
Me: Yeah, that’s cool. Here, have some orange.
Golden Boy: (chewing and running towards a tattooed man at the pub) Why does that man have writing on his arm?
Me: Couldn’t tell you. Here, have some orange.
Golden Boy: (chewing and pointing at The Bean) Leila’s my sister. She’s sleeping.
Me: No kidding? Here, have some orange.
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