Protest march
I've always been a literal-minded sort of person.
So when the Bean began screaming in protest today as I strapped her into her summer chariot it was something of a double whammy.
Firstly, though I suppose I would say this, her hysterical anger seemed a tad out of proportion to my crime. You know, maybe a little OTT when I was only trying to take her home for her tea.
My only response to her fury was to adopt my automaton air hostess voice. Something along these lines: "Will passenger Bean please remain calm, return to her seat, stow her seat table away and fasten her seat belt."
They'd have had her up for air rage on any flight. She countered by rearing up out of the buggy, a full two feet of small girl held rigid with the force of her rage.
I looked round furtively, afraid lest someone might hasten to the Bean's aid and call social services.
As if that wasn't bad enough, I'm doubly dismayed because the Bean is only 14 months old, a stage I thought was still meant to involve cherubic innocence. Too early for pram strikes, sit-ins (well, stand-ups, in this case) and unpredictable boycotts. And if this is the warm-up, what's the main event going to be like?
So it seems I was too literal when I thought the terrible twos were exactly that, an affliction that began on second birthdays and ended on the third. I never reckoned on this stuff beginning a full ten months before she turned two.
I blame nursery. She must have got together with the other babies.
They've been giving each other ideas as they hang out, drinking Babycinos, doing their chalk drawings.
Yes, they've clearly been talking to the
union, finding out their rights, ganging up on their poor, frightened bourgeois parents.
Mark my words, one day it's pram strike, the next they'll be toddling through Paris to
overthrow the reactionary 'system'.
Where will it all end?
Posted
25 June 2007 23:43