Petite Fille, 22 months, sat shyly on Shopping Mall Santa’s knee and when asked “What do you want?” replied, “Change nappy”.
Perhaps a timely reminder that it is the simple things in life that are often the best?
We had stood in line for almost an hour, waiting to arrive at Santa’s sleigh. At one stage, I was using sunlight through the dome overhead to make shadow puppets on the floor to entertain our girl. The old bunny shadow still works, though she is an easy audience.
The situation was not helped by the young couple with a babe only weeks old, who insisted on having several rounds of photos taken and examining them minutely, trying to get the perfect shot with a baby who was too young to smile, or even direct his eyes. He was an ugly baby too. It was never going to happen.
The session was brought to an end when baby burst into screams. However, not before a certain FD Grandmother started fuming and wondering how much psychological damage she would cause to the assembled young if she beat the brains out of the new mother. I wonder if there is a “dial a hit man” service for that kind of thing? Christmas goodwill, bah humbug!
In need of caffeine, we moved onto a nearby cafe, where Petite Fille admired her own, and her Grandmother’s, beauty reflected in a glass door as she waited for a sandwich. A woman sitting at the next table sat watching us for some time before taking out a notebook and commencing to write furiously. She maintained this the entire time we ate lunch, only glancing our way occasionally. I had the weirdest feeling that I was being written into her novel plot.
International woman of mystery, femme fatale, international spy masquerading as a country grandmother? How do you think she created my character? Who am I?
First person to reply “drudge” is going to get it.