So I’ve already had a blog pop at
random people wanting to kiss my two year old.
A lot of you admired my restraint over that.
Wait till you hear about this
one! Mind boggling.
That bar was raised one thousand per
cent last Friday.
Smallest Boy did himself an
impressive injury 5 weeks ago – almost lost a fingertip in the front door.
He had a bandage on it that was
bigger than his entire hand but we are now down to a regular band aid job.
I am actually trying to wean him off
his plaster. I kid you not. He is “minding” himself and still getting
great mileage from his affliction.
He doesn’t need any encouragement and
will show his finger to everyone and anyone the first chance he gets.
Getting away with flipping the bird
while he can, I suppose.
Except Friday morning. He was minding his own business. Content to sit on the step and wait as I paid
for my purchases.
Then the girl who was serving me
spotted his plaster.
If I can go off on a slight, but
relevant tangent here. Are any of you
familiar with that Irish Mammy whimsy of old when a newborn cries and the
granny/older relative asks, “Did Mammy pinch you? Did she?”
Well, this is what the shop assistant
asked my two year old.
“What happened to your finger? Did your mammy do that? Did she?
Did she do that with a knife?”
For the second time in as many weeks,
when someone tried to kiss my child or they said something totally
inappropriate to him, I was struck dumb.
I do a great goldfish impersonation.
She wasn’t finished.
“Will I call the guards on her? Hmmmmmm?
And to make matters worse, the little
traitor was staring adoringly up at her, gone straight into full on flirt mode,
nodding his head furiously along with everything she was saying to him and whole
heartedly agreeing with his little “umm hmmmm” for yes sound.