We looked after Wavey's 3 grotbags yesterday. They get really excited about coming to visit Grandad and Dizz cos obviously I am so incredibly cool and we do loads of fun stuff with them - such as baking cakes and piling them high with coloured icing (never eat anything they make, I've seen them not wash their hands after licking cake mixture off them, yack!), building giant castles and fortresses out of huge cardboard from the wardrobes, showing them how to curl paper (best invention ever, or so you would have thought from their faces!), yesterday we made old treasure maps by soaking paper in cold tea to age it then hanging it out to dry until it was ready for X marks the spot...fun stuff like that.
What is not fun is when they decide that they're going to play a game. And Wavey and I will be the mum and dad...erm, sorry, what? It's not such a big deal for Wavey as obviously he is already a dad or he wouldn't be able to be a grandad, but me? I have never been a mum and never intend to be either, so when some small child comes running over to you shouting mum mum mum we need you to come into the clubhouse and play, it is to be frank, shit scary! Several long relaxing breaths later I was calm again. Until she came back and did it again! Come on! Is she trying to torture me, cos if so, she's doing a really good job of it! Yikes! Cripes! And a holy mother effin fook for good measure! Later they got bored and decided we were playing mermaid kingdom instead, at which point I was relegated to big sis *insert huge sigh of relief here*
It's an odd thing though. That little word is said the world over by millions of kids, hell I said it myself and still do to my own mother. But to suddenly find yourself promoted to that...sheesh. Fizz observed yesterday how it's funny (but not funny ha-ha) how I, the person who has always been very honest and open about not wanting children, often finds myself surrounded by the little buggers! Don't get me wrong, I love kids, they're brilliant fun and they have excellent games to play, but they're only fun when you can give them back. The classic example was yesterday when grotbag number 3 got woken up before his naptime had really ended and he proper sulked, like sitting in the middle of the rug with his head down crying and whining and finally whimpering (but only when he checked to see if anyone was looking) for a whole hour! It was hideous. We did what all parents probably do in the face of such awkwardness and simply walked away and left him to it. I have a huge admiration for people (I think they call them parents) who deal with that kinda shit 24/7. Seriously, I would be demented. Like climbing the walls crazy. How do you do it?!
Suffice it to say that each time I spend time looking after other people's children, all it succeeds in doing is reinforcing my already firm opinion that it's not for me. Or as summed up by Wavey's sis at the end of yesterday: that day was the best advertisement for birth control.
I shall however end with a little advice. If you too want to make ye olde fashioned treasure map it's best to use 2 pegs when you hang it out to dry in the sun or the paper goes all curly and you have to try and smooth it back down without cracking it, tis a tricky old life sometimes...