What is wrong with some people today? The liberties they take! The assumptions they make! I’ll get to the point before I sound too much like a Dr Seuss story. Chatty Baby is pretty cross today.
Mummy invited friends round for tea and cake. Great, for her. For me, it brings all kinds of untold misery, except that I’m about to tell you now. They bring their babies and start talking grown-up talk with Mummy, leaving me on the floor with the other little people. They touch my things, and eat my cake, breathe my air . . . The cheek!
I tried to be patient, I really did, but it’s so difficult. Mummy hates it when Daddy touches her books. She says he “doesn’t respect them,” because he bends the covers back and folds the pages down. I feel the same when other people don’t suck my toys in the right way. My belongings are precious. And they’re MINE!
Tea was hard work. There were two of them, you see. I couldn’t keep the pace with them both. No sooner had I ripped a ball about of one pair of hands than the second was clutching a doll. I toddled as fast as I could to rescue Dolly, and Pair 1 made off with my keyboard! Stress!
Now, I am fortunate to be a two-car baby. Both grannies have given me one, but I like to drive them both. Simultaneously. Imagine my horror when one of my ‘guests’ tried to hop aboard a ride-on car! I had to scream. It was the only way to draw Mummy’s attention to the riotous joyriding taking place.
“Share,” Mummy says. Eh? What? I don’t know that word yet. I can’t say it, I don’t understand it. Sounds like a silly notion to me. She was quite embarrassed by the whole thing, especially when I tried a few distraction tactics (one visitor was of the boy persuasion – see my recent post on what to do with them!) and got a bit carried away. I can’t tell you what happened because we’re still before the watershed.
There were some positives, though; I learned I can’t rely on Hairy Dog at all. He didn’t lift a paw but to have his tummy rubbed by the intruders. He does not have my back in a crisis. I’ll remember that. He’ll be sorry when I eat all my breakfast and don’t throw him as much as a measly little crumb.