At the risk of this turning into the Junior Misssy Misssives, this is yet another post featuring the sunshine of my life/my nemesis, Junior Misssy.
In the last few days, Junior Misssy has been talking a lot about being a grown up. She’s obsessed with what she’ll do when she’s a mummy, what make-up she’ll wear when she’s a mummy, what shoes she'll wear when she's a mummy and how many babies she’ll have.
She starts every such conversation with,
“Mummy, when I’m a mummy….”
Conversations starting this way are usually primo gold-dust. You know you’re in for a treat.
Today’s went like this:
Junior Misssy: Mummy, when I’m a mummy, what will you do?
Misssy M: ( I’ll be getting new furniture to replace all the stuff you’ve trashed) Well, I’ll probably be a gran.
Junior Misssy: Will I live with you?
Misssy M: (Jesus, I hope not) No, you’ll have your own house.
Junior Misssy: Mummy, but I’ll miss you!
Misssy M: But you’ll still see me. You can give me a phone and I’ll come straight round.
Junior Misssy (actually a little bit distraught) : But I don’t have your phone number!
Later on I tell Meeester about our little chat and he tells me that she’s been talking this way for weeks. He’s been having to tell her that we’ll all be living in one big Walton’s style house, because she doesn’t like the idea that we won’t be living with her. Bless her. That little memory will be keeping me warm at night in twelve years time when she's threatening to leave home and live with a wholly unsuitable chap.
Better than that though, I am now rigging up a tape recorder for the next “Mummy, when I’m a Mummy…” session. I’m going to tape her saying that she wants me to live with her when I’m a gran, and then I’m going to lodge the recording with my lawyer.
No old folks homes for me!
He!He!
In the last few days, Junior Misssy has been talking a lot about being a grown up. She’s obsessed with what she’ll do when she’s a mummy, what make-up she’ll wear when she’s a mummy, what shoes she'll wear when she's a mummy and how many babies she’ll have.
She starts every such conversation with,
“Mummy, when I’m a mummy….”
Conversations starting this way are usually primo gold-dust. You know you’re in for a treat.
Today’s went like this:
Junior Misssy: Mummy, when I’m a mummy, what will you do?
Misssy M: ( I’ll be getting new furniture to replace all the stuff you’ve trashed) Well, I’ll probably be a gran.
Junior Misssy: Will I live with you?
Misssy M: (Jesus, I hope not) No, you’ll have your own house.
Junior Misssy: Mummy, but I’ll miss you!
Misssy M: But you’ll still see me. You can give me a phone and I’ll come straight round.
Junior Misssy (actually a little bit distraught) : But I don’t have your phone number!
Later on I tell Meeester about our little chat and he tells me that she’s been talking this way for weeks. He’s been having to tell her that we’ll all be living in one big Walton’s style house, because she doesn’t like the idea that we won’t be living with her. Bless her. That little memory will be keeping me warm at night in twelve years time when she's threatening to leave home and live with a wholly unsuitable chap.
Better than that though, I am now rigging up a tape recorder for the next “Mummy, when I’m a Mummy…” session. I’m going to tape her saying that she wants me to live with her when I’m a gran, and then I’m going to lodge the recording with my lawyer.
No old folks homes for me!
He!He!
18 comments:
1. I love the way you write about Motherhood... at once encouraging me to believe it is an adventure I want to explore... at the same time confirming I'm perfectly fine observing thank you...
2. Tape recorders are so 80s - you need a Memory Stick... basically a dictaphone smaller than a mobile that uploads to your computer.
That was precious!
I love the part about the phone number!
I spent the day with my 15 year old niece today, man time flies! I remember taking her to the zoo when she was 2!
Mrs. Scot and I, took her and her "boyfriend" to the Taste of Chicago. We watched Cracker, Soul Asylum and Cheap Trick play. It was a lot of fun!
Aw but Taex, how cool a Mummy would YOU be!
Scot: I'm still undecided on whether to give her my phone number. She emptied an entire bottle of shampoo into the bath last night- I'm going to wait and see if her behaviour improves before giving out ANY numbers.
Well, you've got it all sorted then! Well done! Just make sure you train her well in the arts of housekeeping and frail care before that time comes. It's no longer considered child labour when she's a mummy!
I'd make the recording if I were you. My brother and I threaten to send our quiet mother to one of those Sunshine Towns in the States: a super duper happy retirement home/complex/village where every body is extremely happy all day every day driving around on their golf carts expecting everybody else to join in with the ultra happiness. And when she's really bad, we threaten to send her to an ultra happy, ultra religious one. Ooooh. Bad children!
Good woman- welcome-I've a long way to go until this one is housetrained.
Insteadi: I ain't going near no nuns!
I agree Misssy, you'd better wait, I would!
Ah..my daughter once said that, if I ever made her leave home (!) she would go and live in the house across the road...She changed her mind for quite a while, but now lives just a few roads away. I think this was accidental... Like your blog Misssy M.
My daughter is training to qaulify so that she can earn enough money to put me into the Best Old Folks' Home. grr.
But, my grandaughter says I can live with her All The Time, so long as I stop snoring when I'm asleep! Ah, bless.
Note: shampoo in the bath is learning to keep the house clean. For whenyou visit!
Quote of the weekend from Nephew #1...
N#1: Are you going on holiday, Feff?
Me: No.
N#1: Is mummy going on holiday?
Me: No.
N#1: Is Dave going on holiday?
Me: Yes. Soon.
N#1: Where he goin?
Me: Miami then Japan.
N#1: (with genuine awe and wonder) You have an Ami??
Me and Clare: *collapse on floor giggling*
Janejill- I live ten minutes away from my mum- how the Hell did that happen? Welcome to the Misssives by the way!
Tea and Cake-Junior Misssy I think may have been protesting about the Live Earth thing with her shampoo actions. I mean really- what the blazes has Madonna got to say that is going to make a difference? Those image reinventions have used more hairspray than us all put together.
Joseph, or can I call you Feff? Watch your Ami on the way back out.
Only five year olds can get away with the Feff thing. I hope to wean him off it as quickly as possible.
But it's so cute!
YOu may be relieved to know Eldest was the same at that age, she informed me she and her husband would be liivng with us along with deveral dalmations and her offspring..I worried her the other day by sobbing but you promised meyou would never leave home when she mentioned her plans for world domination as a billingual actress!!!
Un Peu- shoulda taped her. Missed chance there.
That is so adorable:)
Misssy Scarlett- Plenty more adorableness where that came from- it's all I can do to stop myself just simply transcribing her every word and sticking it wholesale on the blog.
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