Who knew putting on a bit of make-up could be so dangerous. There are all sorts of manuals to be purchased on how to child proof your house but what about a book detailing how to child proof yourself against your own child. Anyone seen one of those lately? Didn’t think so. I’m going to start. It is not a good idea to be carefully applying mascara of a morning, or any other time for that matter, with your back turned. Time is irrelevant here when a Screecher Creature slams into you with every ounce of their little being. Just for fun like. “Jayzus!” That was me you heard this morning over your breakfast coffee. Saved by the skin of my eyelashes. The mascara wand nearly stabbed me in the eye. Almost killed by it, I was! No joke. Highly dangerous occupation applying mascara or eyeliner when in the vicinity of kids. Much safer altogether to apply it in the car at traffic lights. Another time I was sitting at the table minding my own beeswax and feeding Screecher Creature No. 4 his dinner when finnnnggggg! A missile shot past my face. The left side to be precise. Skimmed my cheek bone and landed splat into the spag bol I was forking into Screecher Creature No. 4. Pasta sauce everywhere and a lovely stinging sensation in my cheek. Bloody Makka Pakka or whatever his stupid bloody name is, eyeballed me from the tangled mess of spaghetti and the guilty party eyeballed me from the far side of the room. Again I yelled “Jayzus” grabbed the In The Night Garden toy and yes, I took a leaf out of the Screechers book and hurled it/him/her across the room. I found it/him/her about a week later during a hoovering blitz. Little bastard was still eyeballing me from under the couch with a string of dried pasta wrapped snuggly around his neck. And what about head butts? Did you ever get one of those from a small child? If you did, then there is no need to pass on the information that they are Not Nice. Not Nice at all. I have lost count of the number of head butts I received. Some were accidentally delivered. Like when I was casually bouncing baby up and down on my knee, granted not paying any attention whatsoever, when bam! Stars everywhere, more roaring, “Jayzus!” and then the baby joins in. More out of fright than any injury they received. I am convinced there was one occasion when I was head butted deliberately. Don’t for one second believe in the saying, innocent as a baby. There are in my arse. I was having a lovely snooze for myself. Mister Husband had taken Screecher Creature No. 4 up to the kitchen while he was having a coffee and I was taking advantage of an extra 10 minutes in the scratcher. Now, unless this child is placed in a drawer up high, or tied to the leg of a chair, he will, within minutes, make his way back down to the bedroom. To me. Where I am asleep. I can always hear the slap slap of his hands on the floor and his babbling as he’s on the approach. So I smile. He does the same thing all the time. He comes into the room. I hear him stop and there’s a little “there she is” laugh. The hands slap slap their way over to my side of the bed and I feel his hot breath in my face as he hauls himself up to standing. This is the lovely bit. His thumb goes into his mouth, he makes that “mmmnnnnnn” comfort sound and then his forehead will touch off mine. That morning, however, I was too slow to respond and bam! Head butted. “Jayzus!” Definitely on purpose. I don’t know who got the bigger fright; me because I wasn’t expecting such a painful wake-up call, or Screecher Creature No. 4 because he literally got roared at into his face. How could you expect anyone to sleep when a racket like that is going on? So between the two of us, we managed to waken the other three. Kids, mine anyway, seem to have a penchant for nose injuries. They haven’t managed to break mine, yet, but I swear my nostrils used to be a millimetre smaller. Never have they been so large. All of them liked to shove little fingers up there. Bloody sore. Eyes were fair game too. There was a near drowning incident once with a bottle of water. To date, I’ve been bitten and bitch slapped. A couple of them clamped down out of frustration but currently, Screecher Creature No. 4 is biting out of affection. The bitch slapping however, is definitely not his way of showing the love. There’s “stooping down to their level” Super Nanny style (who comes up with these expressions?) and “stooping down to their level” frustrated and on my last nerve Bad Mammy Style. Which is usually more my fashion, I have to be honest. Sometimes it is so hard to gently explain that’s naughty when it’s so much easier and stress releasing to roar “Jayzus!” followed with other choice language and threats. Personally I don’t hold much truck with the expression “naughty.” It’s too soft and broad for my liking. Listen, they haven’t a clue what you’re saying because they haven’t a clue what they’ve done. Some of them. Most of them. Some of the time. Yes, you’ll get the occasional one that knows very well they have been “naughty” and will start roaring themselves in the hope that they will get away with it. Kids, I’m telling you, were not born yesterday. They, every one of them, without exception have all been here before. I’m onto them now, however. My spider senses are so honed, when a little open palm is intent on making contact with my face, I can stop it in a blink of an eye. I can sense a near head butt in a second now and whip my head out of the way so Spidey fast, the child almost ends up with whiplash. When it comes to toys and other paraphernalia whizzing through the air, well, I’m not that good yet and I can only hope for the best. But I do lock the bathroom door now when I’m applying make-up. Or else do it in the car at traffic lights. Only joking. Jayzus!