Tags
Amoxil, Blackberry, Calpol, Facebook, Michelin-starred, Neil Oliver, Nemo Me Impune Lacessit, Peppa Pig, The Liverpool Pathway, Twitter, University Challenge
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.
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..
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!