Every day when we head out on our outing, the Middle of the Darling Daughters packs her changing bag with bottles, nappies, wipes, milk, muslins, cotton wool, change of clothes – you name it, she has it covered.
She is one Well-Prepared Mother. So far, wherever we have gone, we have never had to have recourse to The Changing Bag. This is either because we have timed our outings perfectly or because Baby Boy is exquisitely tuned to our needs. Or, most likely,
a bit of both.
When we go out on outings which involve the car, I sit in the back with Baby Boy. There he sits in his Super Car Seat, the Master of All He Surveys.
I call him King Baby. It kind of fits in with the theme of general adoration which he inspires in me, his humble servant (aka Nanni.)
Today we were in Centre
Court at Wimbledon. No, not THE Centre Court, that will probably come in about 2035 when Faris Juba Adli lifts the Men’s Singles Cup high above his head and acknowledges the plaudits of the crowd. For today we were in the shopping centre which goes by
the name of Centre Court. The most competitive activity we indulged in was which of us could eat their jacket potato the quickest.
We met one of the Middle of
the Darling Daughter’s colleagues from school. “Is that your baby?” she trilled. What a daft question. We looked at each other and you could see the same thought going through both our heads at the same time. Should we say: “No, we
stole him!” and watch out for her reaction? We were very restrained, all things considering. We smiled and said yes, he was, indeed, our baby. You would have been proud of us.
As yesterday, we met many members of the Adoring Public as we made our way around the shopping centre. We were a little perturbed when not one, but two, people asked us if our Baby Boy was a girl. Especially as he was dressed
in blue. Don’t you have eyes, we wanted to ask but were too polite to do so.
In the Early Learning Centre I bought Young Faris a book called “Baby’s
very first noisy nursery rhymes.” It has buttons to press to play the music to five of the best-known, best-loved nursery rhymes. This is all to the good as it will hopefully keep me on tune when I sing them to the poor babe. The nursery rhyme
book is not his first foray into the world of literature. He also owns a book called “My First London Taxi” – regular readers will remember that his Dad has just passed “The Knowledge” enabling him to join the ranks (if
you’ll excuse the pun) of the world’s most famous cabbies. I’ve read the book to him (the baby not his Dad) couple of times – on every page there is a question requiring the reader to find an object pictured on the page. I have taken
careful note of where each object is as I would rather not be caught out by my grandson when he gets the hang of the story.
I’m starting to feel a little
tearful at the thought that I have only one full day left with my newest grandson before I have to head for home and poor, neglected Mr B who has generously loaned me for a week but really, really wants me back. I’m feeling torn between them, to
But, listen, I can hear the Middle of the Darling Daughters singing to her baby: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine...” It’s the
song I sing to him when I am on “Faris Watch”. I tell her to keep singing it to him so that he remembers me until I see him again.
“As if he could forget...”