5 minutes to read

Mouse cannot be trusted to keep a secret. She can’t even be trusted to keep a NON-secret. She’s exceptionally inquisitive (read: a nosy little sod) and about as subtle as a belly dancer at Mardi Gras. Nothing gives her greater joy than stumbling across me or my husband dropping some sort of bollock, so that she can scamper off and tell the other one at two hundred miles per hour. Here are some of her best snitches to date. 

1. Scene: Weekday morning. Early. Me in the kitchen, Daddy upstairs. I’m filling a water bottle at the sink and drop it, spilling water all over the floor. I whisk out a garment from the washing machine to soak it up with, figuring that the garment is dirty, the floor is dirty, it’s all fine.
Mouse: “Mummy, Daddy told me to come and…….MUMMY! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
Me: “It’s alright, I just spilt some water on the floor.”
Mouse: “That’s Moo’s mus-mus [muslin]. MUMMY! THAT’S NOT YOUR THINGS!
Me: “Really it’s fine, it’s going in the wash anyway. Now, please can you go and tell Daddy that the battery in your toothbrush needs changing?”
Mouse: (Runs towards stairs) Daddy? DADDY! Mummy says my brush….my tooth…DADDY MUMMY PUT WATER ALL OVER THE FLOOR! She’s got Moo’s things on it making them ALL WET! DAAAAAADDY! Water is EVERYWHERE! You want to come and see?

2. Scene: I’m getting Mouse to “write” a wedding anniversary card to us from the girls. She’s not keen, and putting in a frankly abysmal performance. She only wants to use one colour pencil, and she wants to draw on the front of the card rather than inside it.
Mouse: “What is this? What am I doing?”
Me: “It’s a surprise thing, for Daddy” (Why did I say that? Bellend.)
Mouse: “Is it card?”
Me: “Yes. Secret card. Not for today.”
Mouse: “I’ll go and give him the card now?”
Me: “No. Absolutely not. It’s not the special day yet, anyway. You won’t tell him, will you?”
Mouse: “No Mummy, it’s secret card!”
Me: “That’s right. Ok, I’ll fake draw the rest of it, don’t worry. Thanks for your help.”
Mouse: (Bum shuffles down the stairs) “Daddy? DADDY! I got green pen on the elephants for you.”
Daddy: “What?”
Mouse: “I do you a card, for secrets, and thems are elephants on it, and I put green on them. With Mummy. You want to come see?”

3. Scene: Daddy has got me a linen arty poster thing for our fourth wedding anniversary, which he foolishly expected to arrive framed. It did not. He carts Mouse off to the shops to buy a frame, but instead of buying a FRAME, manages to choose a decorative framed PRINT which appears to be an entirely sealed box. I know, I know, it’s not a mistaker I would maker, but I wasn’t there. Rather than returning said print and exchanging it for something actually fit for purpose, he retrieves his toolbox from the utility cupboard and attempts to bastardise it into submission. I return home post-incident.
Me: “Hello! I’m back. Mouse, do you like my hair?”
Mouse: “Mummy, MUMMY! He smashed it all on the floor and told it off and…”
Me: “Hang on, hang on. What did he smash?”
Mouse: “The frame. He bent it and it snapped and made mess.”
Me: “What fr-“
Mouse: (Grabs my hand) “Come and see it Mummy! MUMMY LOOK IN THE BIN! FRAME IS THERE!”
Daddy: “Er, calm down Mouse. We said, didn’t we, we said that it was for Mummy’s surprise?”
Mouse: “Yes, Mummy’s surprise photo thing.”
Me: “Why don’t we have a cup of tea and a biscuit?”
Mouse: “I had two custard creams for snack.”
Daddy: (Wilting) “I didn’t see her eat the first one…and she did also have a satsuma.”
Mouse: (Stands by bin) “Here, Mummy, it’s all broken for your present, look.”

4. Scene: I have the feet of a seventy year old retired door-to-door salesman, due to years of unfortunate shoe choices. If I could order a transplant for any part of my body, I’d get me some luxe new pieds. I am laying in bed one morning, having had a shocker of a night with Moo. I’ve adopted my standard leg-out pose.
Mouse: “Hi mummy! I’m going to nursery soon. I came to kiss goodbye to….mummy, what’s that on your foot?
Me: “Morning. What’s what on my foot?”
Mouse: “That thing there. I think it’s skin, it’s all urgh.”
Me: (Cautionary peek) “Oh. That’s just a blister because my shoes rub.”
Mouse: “It’s all flappy. (peers closer) It’s disgusting. Can I touch it?”
Me: “I wouldn’t if I were you. I think they need a pumice.”
Mouse: “Shall I tell Daddy?”
Me: “No, there’s no need….”
(Daddy enters)
Mouse: “Daddy, look! Mummy’s foot is all not nice, right there. Can you see? That bit there.”
Daddy: “That’s because Mummy wears silly shoes and doesn’t look after her feet. You don’t want feet like that, do you? You’re going to wear nice shoes from Clarks forever.”
Me: “Yeah alright, bugger off, the pair of you.”

-SJW August 2016


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