Thursday 6 April 2017

It's EEEEW Side Down.



I've had a bit of a hard day, so naturally the 5 Year Old is having a tantrum.

She has been told off at after-school club for flashing her knickers in the playground.

She does not like being told off.

She is doing that special 5 Year Old crying where she has to sob each syllable at full volume, punctuated by heaving breaths.

"BUT... OTH... ER.... 5... YEAR... OLD... TOLD.... ME... TO... DO... IT!!!!!"

Insert cliché about "jumping off a bridge" here.

I tell her no-one wants to see her pants, and look stern, then make slow progress listening to howls that can probably be heard in Canada for a bit. Which gets old quickly.

"So did anything nice happen today?" I ask over the cacophony.

"WE... HAD.... SWEETS!" she wails. "IT... WAS... SUPP... OSED... TO... BE... SUCH... A.... NICE... DAY... BUT... NOW... IT... IS... SO... SAD!!"

"Were the sweets nice?"

"NOOOOOOOOO!" And the howling continues.

A little round the corner she cries out "I NEED A TISSUE!"

"Why?" She points at her face. A rather lengthy glob of... let's say nasal discharge is hanging from her nostril.

I rifle in my pockets where there are, of course, no tissues. I find a couple of long receipts.

"You will have to wipe it in this receipt," I say, "I don't have any tissues." ('And the winner of the Best Parenting award is...').

She takes it from me, and dabs limply at a nostril with the corner.

"I think you'll have to wipe a bit more thoroughly than that," I say.

She wipes all around her lower face with the printed side of the receipt. The black ink comes off, leaving streaky stains across her face.

"You've got ink all over you," I point out, "try again!"

She tries again. The white side of the receipt sticks to her face and her hand slides off, leaving her with a rectangular moustache. She giggles.

"Pull it off!" I say, rolling my eyes.

She pulls it off.

"Where shall I put it? I don't have a pocket!" she says.

"Give it to me, I'll hold it until we get to a bin."

She slaps it into my palm. My palm feels wet, sticky and squishy.

"Oh! You've handed it to me EEEEW side down!"

This has her in hysterics. "EEEW side down! Ha, ha, ha!"

I miss the howling...

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