The thing with critics is, even if they do say some bad things, if they do it in a witty and amusing fashion, you can almost forgive them. Of course if they critique somebody else instead of you, they're even more hilarious.
My niece, the early-riser, likes to come into my room if she know I'm awake, or if she's plain bored. Sometimes she just chats away, and I nod and listen and pretend I understand. Today, we were playing a 'monster' game as she climbs underneath my duvet and both of us go "RRRRRrrrrrrr!".
Niece then says, "You haven't brushed your teeth."
Now, I could take offence at that. Certainly if it wasn't expressed by a little girl in a pink polka dot dress. But think again on the sophistication of this comment. You are four months short of your fourth birthday. You are playing a game with your favourite aunt. While in close proximity with said aunt, you detect a sour smell. You recognise this smell as the smell of foul breath. You could say, "You smell," or "Your breath smells."
No, but instead you correlate this stench with the smell of unbrushed teeth and conclude that auntie dearest has not brushed her teeth. Genius!
And she still continues to play with me, smelly breath and all. Bless her little socks!
Later in the evening, I suggested a meal out to my brother and his wife after work, so we headed across the river to a favourite restaurant of theirs. It was 7pm but traffic was still busy and there were still so many people out as I wound the pushchair around them with my niece in it. We stopped at the busy T-junction between Dame Street and George's Street Great South. As soon as the lights turn green, I shot across ther road. Halfway through, the pushchair hit a depressed manhole cover in the road, bringing the chair to a dead stop and my niece to come lurching out of her chair and hitting the ground.
I was aghast. Several pedestrians stopped and gaped. Poor niece, who had only looked stunned. My brother exclaimed, "Mummer!" Niece looked up at him and said in a small voice, "Daddy."
My brother picked her up off the road and we got to the kerb safely, with my sister-in-law laughing in the background. I'm glad she didn't take my head off.
"Don't worry," she said. "It's happened to me before, that pushchair has a shallow seat and Daughter never wants to wear her seatbelt." She stops and chuckles. "But never in the middle of Dame Street!"
I'm glad to say Niece hasn't been seriously hurt, and managed to eat her dinner with little fuss later. I got her some Barbie stickers the next day to make up for it.
My niece, the early-riser, likes to come into my room if she know I'm awake, or if she's plain bored. Sometimes she just chats away, and I nod and listen and pretend I understand. Today, we were playing a 'monster' game as she climbs underneath my duvet and both of us go "RRRRRrrrrrrr!".
Niece then says, "You haven't brushed your teeth."
Now, I could take offence at that. Certainly if it wasn't expressed by a little girl in a pink polka dot dress. But think again on the sophistication of this comment. You are four months short of your fourth birthday. You are playing a game with your favourite aunt. While in close proximity with said aunt, you detect a sour smell. You recognise this smell as the smell of foul breath. You could say, "You smell," or "Your breath smells."
No, but instead you correlate this stench with the smell of unbrushed teeth and conclude that auntie dearest has not brushed her teeth. Genius!
And she still continues to play with me, smelly breath and all. Bless her little socks!
Later in the evening, I suggested a meal out to my brother and his wife after work, so we headed across the river to a favourite restaurant of theirs. It was 7pm but traffic was still busy and there were still so many people out as I wound the pushchair around them with my niece in it. We stopped at the busy T-junction between Dame Street and George's Street Great South. As soon as the lights turn green, I shot across ther road. Halfway through, the pushchair hit a depressed manhole cover in the road, bringing the chair to a dead stop and my niece to come lurching out of her chair and hitting the ground.
I was aghast. Several pedestrians stopped and gaped. Poor niece, who had only looked stunned. My brother exclaimed, "Mummer!" Niece looked up at him and said in a small voice, "Daddy."
My brother picked her up off the road and we got to the kerb safely, with my sister-in-law laughing in the background. I'm glad she didn't take my head off.
"Don't worry," she said. "It's happened to me before, that pushchair has a shallow seat and Daughter never wants to wear her seatbelt." She stops and chuckles. "But never in the middle of Dame Street!"
I'm glad to say Niece hasn't been seriously hurt, and managed to eat her dinner with little fuss later. I got her some Barbie stickers the next day to make up for it.
Comments
Meh, old age makes me soft.
I think Yam means the earlier part of the story. Yup, she's cute. I never thought I'd be the sort of tiresome person who goes on and on about their children/nephews/nieces, but there you go. Old age does make you soft - and liable to heartburn, joint aches, urinary frequency etc.
No, no urine stories - they don't fascinate me as much as bowel problems. Maybe that's why I enjoyed my job in Gastroenterology so much, ha ha. I can always tell you more when we both get home, muahahahhha!!!
And Barbie stickers were the cheapest thing in the toyshop!!