Wibble, Wobble

I’ve upset Mummy this week.  I didn’t mean to, and I suppose I underestimated how much she’d take my ‘feedback’ to heart.

If you asked her, she’d tell you that she’s been struggling with a ‘baby belly’ since I turned up.  She’s gone through worrying about it and now just pretends it isn’t there.  It’s not that she’s particularly fat (cuddly, which is comforting for small person like myself) and she’s the same dress size as she was before me, but her tummy is wobbly.  Really wobbly.

We were lying on the sofa the other day and I’d had enough.  Being still gets boring pretty quickly.  So I got up to make my own fun, and actually, I didn’t have to go far.  I was climbing down to the floor and caught Mummy’s T-shirt.  I couldn’t help but look, fascinated by the giant, white marshmallow she was hiding.  I looked at her and giggled.  She pulled her top back down, but I hadn’t seen enough.  I ripped it back again, and just couldn’t resist – I had to touch it!

It was the funniest thing I think I have ever seen!  It looked like marshmallow, but it felt more like an almost-set blancmange. Or a big white jelly!  Ha ha!  I slapped it and it moved.  Wibble, wobble, wibble, wobble.  Hilarious.  I dug my fingers in, like I was kneading dough.  I laughed and laughed.  It didn’t occur to me that Mummy’s feelings might be hurting.

She’s now on a September Detox of no sweets, biscuits or alcohol in a bid to lose a bit of weight.  I didn’t mean anything by it, it was just meant to be a bit of fun.  I hope I’m not on the diet too!

CB