Saturday, 7 January 2012
Friday, 6 January 2012
First we did the school run. That was alright because we usually do that. I can accept dropping big brother off as this usually means I then get Mummy to myself for the day and that's a good thing. But instead of going home afterwards as we usually do, next she took me to Tesco to print some photos and do some shopping. I was starting to get antsy but just making a little bit of fuss, not too bad. I hoped she would realize things would only go downhill from there and realize the error of her ways before it was too late. Thankfully her shopping finished, we stopped off at home where, after two hours strapped into my car seat, I was allowed to spend some time wriggling and playing on the rug. Although this freedom came as a great relief to me, needless to say, I didn't make life easy for her. I started by working on my crawl. Unfortunately, I cannot yet crawl but this minor detail was not about to deter me. I stick my bum up in the air, scrabble around with my feet, squeak for a bit and eventually start to scoot backwards quite quickly. Forwards had been the general intention but at least it's movement.
The upshot of this is that in the time it took Mummy to boil the kettle, I went from being safely placed in the middle of the lounge carpet with my toys to being stuck underneath the wing chair on the opposite side of the room, busily pulling at the Christmas tree which was leaning at a precarious angle over my head. When she noticed this developing situation, Mummy squeaked a bit and pulled me back out from under the chair, removed the Christmas tree from my grasping mitts and sat down on the floor with me for some play time. I smiled up at her charmingly, giggled a bit and then promptly filled my nappy to spectacular effect. Centre of attention Mummy. Remember, centre of attention at all times.
Adam 1, Mummy nil.
Gagging a little bit, Mummy picked me up and took me upstairs to find a fresh set of underpants. I watched and waited for my moment, plotting. The moment she had released the tapes on my nappy, quick as lightening, I reached down and grabbed it, pulled it up to my face and giggled as I tried to put it on my head. Spoilsport Mummy grabbed it back again, put in a bag and wiped me clean. It wasn't *quite* a full body bath but not far off. She wasn't smiling...and neither was I by the time those cold wipes reached my armpits!
Adam 2, Mummy 1.
We went back downstairs again, and satisfied that she wouldn't leave me alone, I was ::shocked:: to discover that Mummy was strapping me into my high chair and actually ::leaving the room::!!!!!!! Well. I couldn't have this sort of behaviour. I HOWLED. Oh I howled. I screeched and wailed and generally behaved like I'd been abandoned for days. When Mummy returned ::at least:: three seconds later with a bowl of yogurt and apple mush in her hands, I realized she'd only been getting me a snack...but I wasn't about to forgive her. Oh no. I even managed to squeeze out some real proper tears to show her how abandoned I felt and of course, this had the desired effect of pulling on her heartstrings so she was properly repentant and cuddly while I recovered from my trauma. Remember Mummy, cen-tre of att-en-tion. Always.
Adam 3, Mummy 1. (Well no, actually I'll allow Mummy 1 point because it was such a nice cuddle.)
Adam 3, Mummy 2. (But I'm still winning so that's all that matters.)
Mummy fed me my snack and I did my best to get as much of it spread around my face as I could. There is after all no point whatsoever in just eating a snack, one must experience a snack. It's more fun that way. I'm sure Mummy agreed as she tried to aim the spoon at my mouth while I bobbed, weaved and tried to stuff first my fingers, then my toes, then my clothes, then the straps of my highchair into my mouth in between bites. In fact, I'm sure she saw the funny side of it. Really. She did.
Adam 4, Mummy 2.
But suddenly, no more than half an hour into digesting my snack, Mummy was once again stuffing me into my coat, strapping me into my carseat and we were off. Another fifteen minutes in the car and we were pulling up outside a suspiciously familiar building - the chiropractors. Oh this is just fantastic. My day is getting sooooo much better. This is the doctor who messes around with my head and encourages Mummy to stick her finger in my mouth. This means WAR. She carted me inside, said a cheery hello and plunked me down on the carpet surrounded by toys. Oh no Mummy, I'm not about to forgive you and I won't be diverted by toys. Well...except this one. It looks quite good. Chewy...mmmm....I sat there playing contentedly and waiting for the appropriate time to make my move. After about fifteen minutes, I spied it. The doctor had just walked into the room and picked up my file...so I went bright red and spectacularly filled my nappy again. I was really quite proud of it, it was the sort that fills a room with a low lying smog. So as the doctor patiently waited, Mummy sighed and whipped my trousers off to change me right there. MU-TH-ER! This is reception! It's full of windows! There are people around! A little dignity IF you please!
Adam 4, Mummy 3. ::sigh::
Off we went into the chiropractor's room where Mummy explained all of my most recent illnesses. It took quite some time so fortunately, she left me on the floor to play which was a good thing. But then, she had the impertinence to decide she needed to see the doctor as well and proceeded to leave me to my own devices while SHE had an adjustment. Now, I know I'm no fan of the chiropractor, but I'm even less a fan of being ignored. Suddenly, those toys that had previously been so engaging were absolutely awful and I rolled over flat on my face and HOWLED. Mother. You. Are. Ignoring Me. It will. Not. DO. She hopped off the table once or twice to give me Dumbles but this only prolonged the agony. And the howling. Which got noisier. The sound barrier was in danger. FINALLY, Mummy got the point and suddenly it was my turn. Ah. Now this isn't so good. I didn't actually want it to be my turn, I just wanted some attention. I did NOT want to be put onto the table in turn and I DEFINITELY did NOT want Dr Iain to start messing with my head while Mummy stuck her fingers into my mouth. I bit down. HARD. My loyal readers should know that while I only have two teeth at the present time, they are sharp as fangs and I know how to use them. Mummy kept swapping fingers when the dents got too deep. The doctor laughed.
Adam 5, Mummy 3.
Finally, we were finished at the chiropractors and this time, I let Mummy put my coat on with minimal fuss as I was certain we were going home. Imagine my surprise when my pushchair pulled up to another grocery store! But this time, Mummy just wheeled me into the cafe as it was apparently my lunchtime. However, the cafe was crowded with all sorts of interesting people and things to look at. There was no way I was going to eat my lunch without a fuss. Being the centre of attention was admittedly good but Mummy's face was looking a little tense. She was muttering about having to feed the baby in twenty minutes before getting to her next appointment. Silly Mummy! I only eat in ten minutes when you have nowhere else to be! Another appointment means I'm soooooooo not eating. I'll bob and I'll weave, and I'll open my mouth just long enough to give you false hope before clamping my lips shut just in time for the spoon to clang against my cheeks creating maximum mess, but I definitely won't be eating. Hey, look! A little old lady to charm! She thinks I'm cute! Excellent! NO Mummy, I am NOT eating my lunch and that. is. that.
Adam 6, Mummy 3.
Eventually, Mummy gave up and wheeled me off to her next appointment. What IS this place? Why are so many people messing about with their hair? Mummy. You are NOT serious. You've taken me along while you have your hair cut? As if this is even REMOTELY important. I don't CARE if you haven't had your hair cut in eight weeks. I don't CARE if you think it's well overdue. I am NOT taking this one lying down! Well. I'll put in a charm offensive first of course, just to soften everyone up. So I did all the typical baby things, I giggled, I cooed, I shared sticky smiles with everyone who even looked at me. But the time the "aaaaaaaahhhhhhh's" were echoing around the salon, I knew my work was done. Now I was tired. Very tired. I began to wail. This quickly progressed to a howl just as Mummy sat there with wet and only half cut hair so clearly, she couldn't leave now. I SCREAMED..............
Then I was sick. Spectacularly sick. It covered me. It covered my pushchair. It covered my clothes, face, hair and neck and absolutely ensured that Mummy simply couldn't easily clean me up. The only option was having all of my clothes removed, down to my nappy and being wrapped in my coat for warmth, balancing on Mummy's lap while she finished her hair cut. Fortunately, the lovely stylist gave me a bottle of coke to play with and shake...
You won't run errands again - WILL you Mummy???
Adam, game, set and match.