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That little minx, Tiger, has no respect for boundaries.  She has also messed up my font

size-help! She ought to be on Facebook or Twitter or some cherub forum.  My blog is for

adults only.  I mean, if you go out for a special meal now-say to a Michelin-starred

restaurant where you will be paying shedloads to be seen eating a smear of quince coulis,

no sooner than you have broken open your walnut brioche than, out of

the corner of your gimlet eye, you will perceive a Sherpa-waiter

carrying a Peppa Pig upholstered high chair, making for a table near to

you and your romantic companion.

Peppa Pig.png

A legging-ed Mummy will stride out behind the drudge, looking

neither to the left, nor to the right, clutching the enfant terrible’s

entertainment tablet in one hand and guiding the mini-cyclone with

the other.  She will bear an expression that basically could be

translated as Nemo Me Impune Lacessit. ( I think Neil Oliver accurately

identified that motto on Christmas University Challenge, but

surprisingly didn’t know some of the coastal questions.  Ah well, he was

an archaeologist first and foremost.  But I digress..)

Anyway, the maternal facial expression defies socio-cultural challenge and so bang

goes your £200 treat and on goes the music-emitting tablet.  If you are

lucky, she may not breast-feed no 2, which is lurking in the carrycot,carted in by a rather

sheepish Daddy.

Mind you, it might not be Daddy; it might be Latest Replacement Carrycot

Transporter.  (What has happened?  The font’s okay now!)

You are just adjusting the air nozzle above you on a long-haul flight,

before you give your undivided to the amusing safety video, when the mother

in front of you, not long out of some job in the city which required a

Blackberry and no common sense, reclines her seat with a thump

and, for some reason, omits to give her wailing offspring a drink

during take-off’s maximum ear pressure.  Has she administered

Calpol, or Amoxil- also known as banana medicine, which my kids

drained in bottlefuls?  Brilliant for sore ears, novitiates to

parenthood. But check with your doctor first, naturally.  A lot of the

profession were prone to dose their own kids up for a bit of flight

harmony. Oh yes, they did..

Facebook Ads Ireland: Calpol

It’s the same with the supermarket shelves of chocolate goodies

placed strategically at pushchair level, right next to the tills.  Distract

the child, I say.  You used to be able to get sugar-free brick-hard

little crescents of Scandinavian bread that would shatter a

pensioner’s crowns but were ideal for gummy toddlers to suck to a

satisfying mush, just as you rounded the final aisle and came in sight

of the tantalising foil-wrapped temptations.  We ensured that the

rusky saviours were probably gluten-free, so we weren’t all child

haters.  At least, not then.  Knick-knack, paddywack, give the sprog a Bonio.

Seriously, though, it’s not the kid’s fault, is it?  He or she would

probably prefer to be cocooned in a cosy cot with a nice little

routine to follow.  Wouldn’t we all?

Rant over before someone puts me on The Liverpool Pathway.  That

reminds me: I need a drink!

 

 

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