(aka Bike) Part 1368 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad
All Rights Reserved. |
 |
“We both think it’s a very generous offer,” said Jenny returning to the kitchen.
“But–no thanks?” I replied filing the bread making machine.
“Yes.” She blushed and looked away from me.
“That’s your prerogative; I hope I didn’t embarrass either of you, because it wasn’t meant that way.”
“Not really, but we’d like to solve our own problems.”
“That’s okay–I understand.” My first effort as Lady Bountiful and I cocked up–pity because I thought it was a good cause.
“Valerie, said thanks anyway.”
“That’s your sister I take it?”
“Yeah. I’ll go and check on the babies.” She disappeared and I was left alone with my thoughts and a bread machine–they’re not the best thing with which to have a conversation.
Simon appeared a short while later, he came into the kitchen and sniffed–“That all smells very interesting–what is it?”
“Bread, salmon and jacket potatoes.”
“That salad looks nice too.”
“The kids will complain–they always do with salad.”
“Will you make some of your salad dressing?”
I almost fell over. “I didn’t think you liked my salad dressing.”
“Yes I do, I love almost everything you make–foodwise at least.”
Since when? Hmm–he’s not taking the piss is he?
“Okay–I’ll make some if you assure me you’ll eat it?”
“Absolutely–now gi’s a kiss.” He copped a feel while he was at it–but then he is my hubby. “I love your tits,” he said rubbing them both until my nipples showed through my top.
“D’you mind?”
“Not at all,” he smirked back continuing to play with my mammaries.
“Well I do–to start with, tits are little birds which belong to the Paridae or titmice family.”
“Don’t go all scientist on me, I know what tits are–and these are some of the best I’ve ever seen.” He continued rubbing them.
“They are breasts–not tits.”
“You say potato an’ I say potater...” he began singing. I pushed his hands away.
“I’m I interrupting something?” said Jenny standing in the doorway.
“No, not at all–Simon was just going up to change–into somebody nice.”
“Tits,” he said and walked up the stairs.
“Tits, tits, tits,” said Puddin’ giggling as she wandered though the kitchen.
“That’s all I bloody need,” I said smacking my palm on my forehead.
“Bloody tits,” said Puddin’ walking back through the kitchen. At this rate I was going to kill two of them before bedtime.
Jenny was almost hysterical with laughter.
“Don’t laugh, you only encourage the little monster–pygmy voice recorder.”
Puddin’ was giggling as she walked down the hall–“Shit, tits,” she said and giggled.
“You realise I could use a hundred thousand words from the English language and the only ones she’d pick up are the rude ones. If this continues, I’m going to end up in the next bed to Stella.”
“Why not send Puddin’ there–tell them she’s got Tourette’s syndrome.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I replied to Jenny’s joke.
We both laughed, before she informed me that Catherine might find better use of my milk than having it dribble through my top. I glanced down at the spreading wet patch on my breast–Simon–I’ll murder him.
I went and found the little one and she clamped on to my breast as soon as I picked her up. She was hungry and sucked me dry in record time. I sat her in her high chair and warmed up some pureed dinner, which she wolfed down–almost howling afterwards–just my luck, one with Tourette’s and the other with lycanthrope.
“What are you smirking about?” asked Simon reappearing in his polo shirt and jeans.
“I wasn’t smirking, I was thinking.”
“About something funny–I saw the grin on your face.”
“It wasn’t funny, it was ironic possibly sad.”
“Oh–so are you going to share it with me?”
“Not really, why?”
“Oh–I thought married couples weren’t supposed to have secrets from each other.”
“That was obviously decided by a man.”
“Yeah, probably–men are more honest.”
“They are too.” I actually agreed with him.
He noticed, “Geez, Cathy you actually agreed with me, how weird is that?”
“It’s not weird at all–men are more honest–I agree.”
“Well, well–can I put it in my diary?”
“Not so fast, Kimmosabi.”
“Why not, Tonto?”
“Well we may agree on one level but for very different reasons.”
“Okay, I’ll risk it–why d’you think men are more honest?”
“Does it matter?” I asked not really wanting to get embroiled in the battle of the sexes.
“Yes of course it does, doesn’t it, Jenny?”
“Does what?”
“Cathy and I both think men are more honest than women–would you agree?”
She paused for a moment–“Not entirely, the thick ones are–and that probably includes seventy five per cent...”
I was sniggering now and Simon was frowning.
“That’s a bit stereotyped isn’t it?”
“Yeah, probably, why did you ask?” she threw back at him.
“I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t,” he excused himself and we both feel about laughing.
“Are you avenged now for your milky tee shirt?” Jenny asked.
“Yeah–I suppose so–better go and change and serve dinner.”
She sniffed, “The aromas are wonderful,” she sniffed again.
“Not sure about the salmon,” I challenged.
“Okay–but the bread is divine–are we having fresh bread with dinner.”
“I wasn’t going to–it’s intended for breakfast...”
“Go on–we could do another for then.”
“Oh alright,” I rolled my eyes, “You can take it out of the machine while I go and change.”
After dinner, which seemed to cause the entire loaf to disappear–most of it down Simon’s or Tom’s gullets–Jenny and I cleared up–I know, more stereotyping–but the kids were doing their homework and Simon was watching something on the box.
We sat and drank a cuppa before anything else. We’d just finished it when Trish came in–in tears.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I asked picking her up and sitting her on my lap.
“Jodi Wigmore sent me a text telling me I smelt like a pig.”
“That’s not very nice–and you don’t smell like a pig at all.” I sniffed her. “You smell of Dove soap and peach shampoo. Has she ever smelt a pig?”
“How do I know?” she shrugged.
“Why did she send you a message like that?”
“Because I told her she was wrong.”
Ah–little miss clever clogs syndrome. “Wrong?” I queried.
“She said Sydney was the capital of Australia–an’ it’s not, it’s Canberra.”
“That’s correct, now how did you tell her?”
“She answered the question from Sister Aquinas an’ I stood up and said she was stupid because everyone knows it’s Canberra.”
“Ah–that might be your problem then–not everyone knew–including Jodi. It’s quite a common mistake–people often say New York is the capital of America.”
“That’s Washington,” she beamed and clapped.
“What’s the capital of Germany?”
“Um–Berlin?” she said looking just a little doubtful.
“Good girl, now how about Syria?”
“Um–I don’t know,” she blushed.
“It’s Damascus–but you see, you don’t know everything–so be careful how you show your cleverness. Sometimes it’s a good idea to keep your light hidden under the bushel.”
“We did that story in Bible studies–the one about the man hiding his light under a brush-still.”
Jenny got up quickly and cleared the cups–the rat–leaving me to deal with another of Trish’s mispronunciations. Maybe I need to get her ears checked?
Comments
Out of the Mouth of Babes
Sometimes your children get it in spades. A few years ago our son-in-law and grandson came into their house through the front door. Our daughter could hear from the kichen that the front door didn't latch, and she hollered. "Close the door." Someone shouted back, "What?" Our four-year old granddaughter responded, "Close the F---ing door." She didn't learn it from us.
Portia
Portia
Cathy's next challenge...
...Educating Trish as to the meaning of tactfulness :)
Meanwhile, a possible psychological experiment: take a few completely innocuous words, and say them with gasps and titters in the vicinity of Puddin' - see if (a) she picks them up, (b) if she continues saying them when there's no observable reaction from her audience...
--B
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!
I hope...
I hope she succeeds. I've known some adults that appear to not have a tactful bone in their bodies.
Kids DO say the darnedest things. Generally when you least expect it. Best example happened to the receptionist (at my former job). She was driving home from school with her son in the car. He asked to call his grandma so she hit the speed dial and handed him the phone. A few minutes later, as she was driving down the road she heard "Grandma, did you know that Uranus has poisonous gas?" I think the miracle is she didn't have an accident. She said that - in retrospect, she figures her mom was asking him what he learned in school that day. (If you don't get it say it aloud... With the pronounciation where the a has a long "A" sound and has the emphasis.)
Anne
Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1368
No, Trish has good hearing. It's Puddin who has the knack of repeating what she hears with comedic effect.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Puddin' just about made me fall over
At this rate she will be on the fast track to outdoing a sailor or a fishwife. I can't wait until visitors get an earful of Puddin', teach the adults to have potty mouth :).
Thanks Ang!
Kim
Puddin: reincarnation of ...
George Carlin? :)
She's 2/7 of the way there already. 3/8 if you want to include the British term.
Well, Cathy seems to give Trish a lesson in being
human every couple of days. In 20 or 30 years she'll probably be angelic.
Funny!
The funniest line I've seen in a while.
i supose soap at that age is out of question yet - lol
Trish may not have to learn social etiquette as we know it. Prob will get locked up in one of thise hi security labs developing what ever field shes into and little interaction with anyone but others like her.
.
Sorry to put that in light. but it happens all too often. OR am I referring to me and choices made over the years working with computers - lol
Still, I never came close to her present shown abilities so far. I feel lucky in many ways.
Jemina - Mima - Meems
Where has this young genetic lady gone? Other than an occasional mention of her name, we really havn't heard from this
precocious young lady, and we know nothing about her that hasn't been revealed since she became part of the family. Doesn't she have perceived problems ( that really are not problems ) that are pertinent to the plot line?
Don't let someone else talk you out of your dreams. How can we have dreams come true, if we have no dreams?
Katrina Gayle "Stormy" Storm
Reminds me of a joke,
A Reverend was hearing a childrens funeral for a beloved hamster. He was startled by the end of the liturgy, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the hole e goes in.".