Her friends from the Hundred Acre Woods join Bibsey Mama on her morning perch
You know that thing, when you are a mother, or father, and your children come uninvited, not just to witness, but to actively watch you, as an adult woman, or man, doing whatever it is that you do in the toilet? Yep. That.
Here are this week’s toilet encounters with the inquisitive Bibsey:
“What’s that?! Ice cream?” Bibsey referring to a Tampax Compak still in its wrapper. Erm. Yes, because that is what I do: eat ice cream on the loo.
“¡Hola!… yes… yes… It’s Tigger” Bibsey holds out ‘phone’ (bar of toy soap from the baby doll bath set) to me while I am trying to wipe my bottom. Me: “Tell Tigger I’ll call him back in a mo”
Another morning, another interrupted ablution. This time she enters with Piglett, both with noses in the air, sniffing and pulling a face. I have one word that I want to say here: UNINVITED!
And finally, one of life’s really pressing questions for a two year old: “Where the poo go Mummy?” I started to explain about the septic tank and going to see El Alcalde about getting us hooked up to the sewage system, but gave up and waved an old Grazia mag at her by way of a distraction.
What have we learned? That pretty shoes and bags trump poo, but only just.
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