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take one woman with low self esteem, but quite good hair
add one moronic illness
stir in some medication which causes hair to fall out
mix it all up and this is what you get...


Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Out of the bladders of babes... 

"I done a wee-wee!" proclaimed the shrill voice from the garden.

Big and I looked at each other with furrowed brows as we sat on the sofa. We had just shown the woman around the house and left her to explore again on her own. Although she was not quite on her own. She was accompanied by her two year-old son.

"I done a wee-wee!" he proclaimed again. And again. And again. Like most toddlers, he had clearly not yet grasped the concepts of tedium or appropriate vocal volume, much to the chagrin of anyone who happened to find themselves unexpectedly in his company.

A few moments later, the mother emerged into the dining room, her two year-old slung on her hip. She looked rather sheepish, while he smiled proudly at his most recent achievement.

"I'm afraid he's done a wee on your patio. Say sorry to the lady, Frankie,"

"Frankie" looked at me with a look of gormless fascination perfected by toddlers the world over. Unsurprisingly, no apology was forthcoming.

So, not content with knocking annoyingly on our front door, bleating repeatedly and shrilly at his mother for a jaffa cake while we were attempting to have a conversation, grabbing fridge magnets off the fridge and generally getting in the way both physically and conversationally throughout the farcical "viewing", it now transpired that the child had urinated on our patio.

"I'm sorry, I should have thought to bring his potty,"
"Don't worry, these things happen," I smiled kindly, yet probably rather falsely.

Now, before the parents among you lynch me, it's not that I don't like children (though of course I couldn't eat a whole one... ha bloody ha). Of course, children can only learn how to conduct themselves in society by participating in that society. But is it really appropriate to bring a very young (and, as it turned out, incontinent) child along to view a house? I could tell that the mother wasn't paying attention to her surroundings due to the constant, bleating demands of the child. Every time I attempted to answer her questions, the child would start tugging on her hand or wittering inanely. I can only imagine that her experience of the whole d├ębacle was as frustrating as mine.

Wouldn't it have made more sense to leave the child with a friend or relative for the short period of time required to view the house? This is potentially an important financial decision - isn't it best to be focussed on the task in hand with a clear head, rather than one distracted by talk of jaffa cakes and wee-wees?

As a childless old crone, smug in my world of selfish infertility, I am probably not qualified to comment, but sometimes I really don't understand parents.


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