‘Good Girl!’ I yelped with an audible smile on my face.
My tone was a little too celebratory to be excused.
It wouldn’t have needed excusing if it had been the baby who had burped and not ET. Just another example of the side-effects of having a 3 and a half week old lodger.
The professing of congratulations when another adult breaks wind is something that often happens in our house now, especially around relay dinner time. Relay dinner is when both our meals are prepared and waiting to be eaten, but only one of us can eat at any given moment while the other pacifies El Mango.
4 bites washed down with a drink before the baby baton is passed and the other person gets the chance to scoff as much of their cold dinner as possible before the whole thing comes full circle once again. The relay is considered a success should the child actually shut up at any stage during the meal or someone manages to finish their food before the appearance of mould, it’s considered a failure when you actively contemplate selling all but one of your dining room chairs.
Unfortunately, the madness of Mango’s mangled mammy and daddy’s world is not confined to the shaky four walls of our little home. I’ve had more than one strange look from colleagues during this last week as a result of ‘baby speak’.
Asking people questions with psychopathically wide eyes, a perpetually nodding head, in a voice that makes them wonder if I’ve had a testicle removed and my jaw broken does not help get things done.
‘Does this mean the pwoject will be a widdle bit late? It does, doesn’t it. It does, so it does. Yes it does. Yes it does. Awww.’
Jiggling a one hundred kilo Dutchman’s cheeks while you ask them will just get your arse kicked.