Cadbury's Creme Bambino and Crackerjack Ma's Not Speaking to Me
Towards the end of the Easter Sunday service, the priest was giving out Cadbury's Creme Eggs. I didn't go up first time around but when he said that there were still loads left, the boyf's mum urged me to go up, knowing how much I love chocolate. I carried the bambino up with me and her eyes lit up as they held out the foil covered egg and she snatched it gleefully, refusing to let it out of her grip. A few minutes later we headed off on the short walk home and I looked in at
her in the pushchair where she was still clinging to the egg in worship.
I peaked in at her half way home. "Boyf, you don't think she's managed to break the egg do you?" I said worriedly. It was difficult to see with the raincover and the snow.
He looked in. "Nah..."
Minutes later we were home. I lifted up the raincover and was shocked to be confronted by a guilty looking bambino smeared in chocolate and goo. Somehow, she'd managed to pierce the foil and the egg and there was a ring of goo around her mouth, it was all over her clothes and her hands were unrecognisable! She giggled as she tends to know with all of her almost ten month old spidey senses when she's done something naughty. We took pictures of her and had to carefully bring her inside where we washed the sticky little mischief maker down.
I realise that I have many more times ahead of catching her doing funny things....
In the meantime, crackerjack ma isn't speaking to me. It's day ten and it's been an oddly quiet, drama-free period. Without boring you (and myself) with the details, she's essentially annoyed with me for 1) not allowing her to do and say as she pleases, 2) not thinking what she wants me to think, and 3) calling her on things that she says and does, rather than pretending that it's all hunkydory and giving her free reign to run roughshod over me.
I sometimes get nervous of turning into my ma in my old age until I remind myself that we're very different people and that if I don't want to behave in the same way with the bambino, then I will ensure that I don't.
At the end of the day, it's her loss and by giving me the blankety blank cheque book and pen, it's really the bambino who she is missing out on. As I haven't done anything and she's decided she's not speaking to me, I see no reason to chase her up about it. I'm sure in time she'll decide to get down off the crackpipe highhorse and until then, I will bask in the peace and quiet and be thankful that I'm not the one listening to all of the crackerjack tales and melodramas...
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