Small infuriations


I woke up feeling bad again this morning, a sign that whatever has been ailing me has yet to clear, and struggled through the morning. We took both our little urchins to a play gym nearby, and ran them around until they were exhausted. Then, as Destroyer was inconsolable, I took her home and she screamed “mamma” at me for twenty minutes, then lapsed into a combination sob-snore as she fell asleep, face buried in her pink bunny.

In the afternoon, we took them back to the library. I had to return The Sell-out and all the other books we’d borrowed, and in return we fetched new ones like The Ice Cream Fairy. Then we took the kids home again, via a mall where we gave them dry bread.

At home, La Serpiente ended up out of her underpants and eating yogurt from the kitchen counter. I asked her if she needed to go to the toilet but she declined, and her mother pointed out that she’d been to the loo just two hours before. So I was outvoted 2-1 on taking her to the bathroom for micturation duties. (Destroyer didn’t get involved.) Unfortunately, and infuriating for me, my status as the Piss Whisperer was only demonstrated when a minute later, La Serpiente started peeing, from atop a kitchen stool, all over the floor, over the furniture, and over some cookery books. There are times when I enjoy being proven right, but as I mopped up a child’s urine, I realised that this was not one of them. I suppose it took my mind off my aching joints for a little while.

So we bathed the kids and got ready to put them to bed. The routine now is that we read a story to both of them, then one parent takes Destroyer into her room and the other puts La Serpiente down. Before that, the two hug each other. This is very sweet, especially when they run towards one another from opposite ends of La Serpiente’s bedroom to do so. Except when, as on this occasion, Destroyer headbutted La Serpiente in the mouth. Cue howls of pain from Destroyer from getting another whack to the bump on her forehead from last week, and howls of pain from La Serpiente, reeling from a bloodied lip. If Destroyer had been slightly smaller, or slightly taller, none of this idiocy would have come to pass. Instead, we had to bear with another fifteen minutes of each child crying.

I had La Serpiente tonight, and when she’d calmed down from this hit to the face, she spent ten minutes clapping her hands and singing, until I left the room, at which point she became tearful and claimed she couldn’t sleep for loneliness. It’s a bit early in her life to engage with Kierkergaardian levels of ennui, surely? Destroyer prowled her room instead of going to sleep, until finally the two of us parents swapped rooms. La Serpiente at least respects the parental authority of her mother, and Destroyer understands that if I’ve passed out on the mattress, it’s probably time she did the same, so by 9 we were all down. What a day…


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