Yesterday a couple of friends threw a party in honour of the fact that they are about to naff off around the world for a year, partly travelling, site-seeing and visiting overseas friends, and partly to put in a few months of volunteer work around the place. So the Youngling and I went along (<3 is away at the moment) and had a great time for a couple of hours, mostly due to the fact that the Youngling was fascinated by our friends' three chickens.
Part of the deal of the party was that everyone had to take away some of the "free stuff" that our friends were trying to unload before they left. The Youngling had a root about and chose an orange plastic bowl (clearly the most exciting thing there judging by her reaction: "Bowl! Bowl!"), a set of rubber stamps with Xmas designs (they came in a nice case with a nice little handle, which is a bonus) and a small, blue, cuddly rabbit, quickly dubbed "Babbit" for fairly obvious reasons.
Anyway, fast forward a few hours until we have had tea, Youngling has had a bath and I am off in the kitchen fixing a cup of milk for her bedtime. Then I notice things have gone rather quiet. I look into the living room and there is the Youngling spoonfeeding her leftover dinner (which I had neglected to clear away/out of reach) to a now red-with-gloop Babbit.
I took the food and rabbit away and ran the latter under the tap but failed to get him clean, so figured I should stick him in the wash. By this point the Youngling was calling a plaintive "Babbit?... Babbit?..." which looked like it would develop into a tantrum if things didn't go just right.
So in one of my clearer thinking moments, I got Youngling to put the slightly wet Babbit to bed a cardboard box and say "night night" to him. Bizarrely this worked fabulously and after I'd got Youngling to bed, Babbit was put into the washing machine with a load of other stuff and was clean and dry by the morning. Win!
2 comments:
Very cunning Rob, out witting a child - a rare thing indeed.
I remember the trauma of walking up on a fine Saturday morning in my long distant childhood to see my teddy bear dangling from his ears on the washing line.
It could well be the last time I manage to outwit this particular child. She's like a terminator: win one battle with her and she's back, meaner, smarter and able to see right around that last ploy.
That said, I can still defeat her with tickle attacks, something for which she has not yet developed a defence.
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