That man cracks me up. Much like Amelie with an Easter egg. Suffice it to say that we worked our way through enough chocolate yesterday to make Willy Wonka feel sick, and today is shaping up to be much the same. I was also forced to repeat the Easter Egg Hunt on about six occasions, each time with a diminishing number of eggs. By the end of the day, I was hiding foil wrappers.
Unfortunately, eggs (and the code to developing diabetes) weren't the only things we cracked yesterday. Toby also had his skull staved in with a toy monkey. To be honest, I think he might be safer if I let Chloe raise him...
She's already taught him to stand on all-fours on the sofa. And she's demonstrating the golden rule that when Daddy removes some of the cushion covers to give them a wash, you should instantly head for the unprotected surfaces and prepare to throw up. Not that he needs much encouragement.
Anyhoo, yesterday was Easter Sunday, so while Lisa was at church celebrating the rise of the undead, I was at home, resurrecting my childcare skills. I look after Toby (in the loosest possible sense) every Sunday, but the arrival of British Summer Time meant that Lisa was running even later than usual, and as the time approached for her to leave, Amelie still wasn't dressed. So rather than drag her daughter to church in her Sunday best to pray for forgiveness, Lisa decided to let Amelie stay at home in her sackcloth and ashes.
To be honest, I didn't mind. Amelie's like a court jester as far as Toby's concerned, so it meant that my workload as Entertainments Officer was greatly reduced. Unfortunately my duties as School Nurse increased. Toby had just risen (Christ-like) from his morning nap, when Amelie decided to make him laugh by violently shaking a teething chimp in front of his face. It's the kind of dangerous, and potentially life-threatening, activity she carries out on a daily basis, and which we frequently warn her against. Unfortunately it never fails to make him laugh, which is something Amelie keeps using in her own defence. If I had a pound for every time I've heard the words "But look! He likes it!", I'd be able to afford a nanny.
So there I was, telling off Amelie to the sound of Toby's roaring laughter, when one of the monkey's death-defying dives went a little too close to Toby's head, and he got hit in the face with a plastic ring. The bad news is that his left eyelid swelled up like an uncooked cocktail sausage, and he had a bindi on his forehead. But the interesting thing is that Amelie was more upset than he was. Toby only screamed for five minutes, but Amelie was wailing for a good quarter of an hour.
Fortunately the swelling went down very quickly, and he was no longer a marked man by lunchtime, so I don't think there are any lasting effects. Let's face it, he was wrestling Chloe on the sofa by mid-afternoon. But it proved that emotional pain is more agonising than any physical discomfort. While Toby bounced back in no time (much like the monkey before him), Amelie took at least an hour to get over the guilt. I don't think she needs that Catholic church at all.
4 comments:
She's learnt well ;-)
Aaaah! Your poor children! I don't know which one to feel most sorry for.
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