Sunday, October 17, 2004

Francesca

Francesca
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Spent yesterday afternoon looking after my one year old niece. It was hard work; she's got teeth coming through, had an uncomfortable rash around her nether regions, was suffering from tummy trouble and was not in a good mood.

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All my usual wiles and tricks failed me and her dodgy guts that meant an area behind her, to a radius of 20ft, smelt like a Ukrainian restaurant.

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I spent an abortive half hour trying to wean her off The Teletubbies and into Aretha Franklin instead. After that failed, I put the Teletubbies back on and eventually found a game that she liked; putting alphabet blocks into a carrier bag and tipping them out. Over and over again.

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For three hours I sat there with her, gagging on the naked ferocity of her bottom burps, listening to people in purple suits singing inane songs, repeatedly emptying a bag and filling it up again.

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My brain hurt. What state would I be in after four or five years of that kind of punishment? What would the impact be? A loss of 10-20 IQ points a year? At least. IKEA would undoubtedly start to look greeeeeat.

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I vow to be more understanding of young parents in future. Well, for a few days anyway.


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