Wednesday, 19 February 2014

Maternal instinct

When I went to pick up Beth from nursery on Tuesday, I had the following related to me by one of her nursery workers:

'So, today Beth's been playing Mummies with one of the staff.'

'Oh, that's nice.'

'Yes... To be honest, we're a bit scared about what she might be like as a parent.'

'You and me both. What did she do?'

'Well, first of all she told Kelly that she was the baby, and that she had to lie down in bed and go to sleep RIGHT NOW.'

'Sounds like Beth.'

'And then she started talking to Kelly, who didn't answer, because she had been told to pretend to be asleep. So Beth went up very close to her face, and started shouting: "YOU GET UP RIGHT NOW AND LISTEN TO YOUR MUMMY OR I WILL NEVER FEED YOU EVER AGAIN." '

'Goodness.'

We must never let her breed.

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

Of Beth

Who is rapidly pushing her way past Mr Jamie when it comes to producing blog-worthy material. I always thought having a child who produced as much blog material as Jamie does was a one off... but apparently not.

Yesterday I picked her up, as I do usually, from nursery. She was, by Beth's standards, relatively pleased to see me (this meant I got a hug, as opposed to a 'I staying at nursery. You go away', which is rather more typical of her), and came over to put on her coat before we had her handover and then filed out past the other children who were sitting down ready to listen to their story.

'That Harry Mummy.'

'Oh. Okay.'

'He wearing a blue top.'

'That's lovely.'

'LOOK, Mummy. Look at his blue top.'

'I'm looking, I'm looking. It's a lovely blue top.'

'Bye Harry. Bye bye Harry. HARRY! BYE BYE!' Poor, harangued Harry finally looked over and acknowledged Beth. 'Harry, you want a kiss?'

'No.' I didn't blame him.

'I give you a kiss anyway.' And she strode over and proceeded to throw herself into an attempted snog with the unfortunate Harry. He, desperate to escape, turned his back on Beth. Beth, not deterred even slightly, enthusiastically snogged the back of his neck before turning and walking back to me with the rather threatening retort to him: 'I see you tomorrow'.

Slightly speechless, I walked her out of the nursery.

'Mummy, Harry my boyfriend.'

'Oh good.'

And Keira... Keira my girlfriend.'

Good grief. Lock up your sons - and daughters - parents in the local area. Beth is on the prowl...

In an unrelated, but even more brilliant Beth anecdote, on Sunday I was upstairs in my dressing area trying on a dress I thought that I might wear for the work event which is currently taking over my life, and which finally goes ahead on Friday. (Such a shame I can't blog about work - the blog material it's been producing is outstanding.) The main criteria for the dress was that it had to be non-slut-like. (That's the technical term there.) Pleased with the results, I turned round to Beth, who was watching me closely and somewhat suspiciously.

'What do you think, Beth? Shall I wear this for my big work meeting on Friday?'

She eyed me with utter disdain.

'That not a dress. That a top.'

Probably not, then.

Tuesday, 4 February 2014

Careers advice

My thanks for this post have to go to my friend Vic, who incredibly generously wrangles Mr Jamie for me before and after school two days per week while I go to work and have a little quiet lie down under my desk. She reported back on the following conversation, which had taken place in the car on the way to school yesterday. It's nice to know that he doesn't just reserve his madness for his mother...

As she told me, they were discussing the importance of having to go to school so that you could learn about things which would be important when you were a grown up and had to go out to work. Mr Jamie, sat in the back of the car, was obviously musing upon this. Neil and I have had a very similar conversation with him in the past, when we've told him that it's important that he listens in class because if he works hard and learns a lot then he'll have more of a choice when it comes to what job he might want to do when he grows up.

And then this happens. (Names of the children involved have been very deliberately removed to protect the innocent... I don't want to start a riot at the school gate due to my son's utter lack of political correctness.)

'Yes, so that means that Child X and Child Y are going to have really good jobs when they grow up, because they're really clever.'

He thought about it some more.

'But Child Z... Child Z [who, if Mr Jamie is to be believed, struggles a little more academically]... they're going to be REALLY poor.'

Oh god.

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