The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2276 by Angharad Copyright © 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

As no one admitted to being hungry, I have no idea who ate all the pork sandwiches I made–practically a whole loaf was consumed. I was quite pleased that they had all gone because it meant I wasn’t tempted to eat any. I’d had too much for my lunch and made do with a cup of tea and a banana.

After that it was time to feed Lizzie and Cindy was transfixed by the baby sucking like a milking machine, which I suppose she is in a cute sort of way. She stopped in mid suck gave a grimace burped and shocked herself, then filled her nappy. Did I mention cute earlier–that might have been an exaggeration. Smelly certainly seemed apposite.

“Haven’t you see her feed the baby before?” asked Danni dismissively.

Obviously the answer was no because she refused or was unable to tear her eyes away. “I think it’s beautiful and wish I could do it.”

“What for?” Danni sounded exasperated.

“It’s just–beautiful,” she sighed.

“Would you like to help me change her?” I asked the doe eyed school girl.

“OMG, yes please.”

“Danni, would you pass me the changing mat.”

“Bloody babies,” she muttered but did get and pass to me the changing mat which I placed on the table.

Next I pulled down Lizzie’s tights, she had no shoes on, then the plastic pants and finally undid the nappy pin allowing the aroma of fresh baby poo to join the smells in the kitchen.

I scooped out the poo in the liner and dumped it in the bin, then rinsed out the nappy before placing it in the nappy bucket. Lizzie lay there gurgling and squealing as Cindy talked to her.

“Oh she’s weed herself,” Cindy suddenly gasped. I dashed across but was too late it had gone underneath Lizzie and made all her clothes wet. I got a bowl of warm soapy water and after stripping the baby of the wet clothing, handed the damp flannel to Cindy and told her to wipe her all over, except her face. She hesitated, “Can I?” she laughed in a nervous manner.

“Go ahead,” I instructed her and watched as she very gently wiped her front and then supporting her head wiped off her back. I then showed her how to lift the baby onto a towel to dry her, we powdered her, slapped some cream on her bum and her fanny and did the nappy, the plastic pants and then her pyjamas.

“Wow,” she said, “that was amazin’, I wish we had a baby to look after.” She had a definitely broody look in her eyes, which sadly would never amount to anything. “Is she your baby, Lady C?”

“No, I’m fostering her for a colleague who lost his wife soon after the baby was born.”

“So how can you feed her, if she’s not yours?”

“I’d been feeding Cate until recently so my milk was in.”

“I wish I could do that,” she sighed wistfully.

“Bloody girls,” sighed Danni missing the irony of her statement and I had to restrain myself from laughing out loud at the absurdity of it.

“You’re a girl, you numpty,” chided Cindy.

“Oh yeah,” Danni shrugged, “I forgot.” She blushed and I left the room on the pretext of putting the baby to bed. Some days I do wonder about my children, I really do.

About half an hour later while I was doing some mending of Trish’s uniform, Cindy was sitting watching me–it seemed I’d acquired some special status because I let her play with my real live Barbie–my mum never does much sewing, so I’m not very good at it. I struggle in school.”

“You’ll have to come here and get Mummy to show you, she’s teaching me,” Danni was now conscious of the fact she was a girl. I wasn’t sure what I thought about her offer, was my sewing good enough to teach others? What if I taught them all the wrong way to do things? I’d check with a book I had and have a look on line see what’s available to do a consensus method and hope it’s not too far off the mark.

“That would be great but perhaps your mum hasn’t got time to spare to do it with me.”

That kind of put me on the spot, it would be mean to deny her besides her presence might encourage Danni, whose sewing skills were poor–they improved after the lesson the other day–so it might prove useful to have some peer pressure, and it seems Cindy is more girly than I remembered. Possibly absence does make the heart grow fonder.

“Okay, we’ll give it a try, we’ll have a sewing evening or afternoon once a week and see what happens. I’m not giving an open agreement to it because we might all decide it’s not working or I’m showing how not to do things.”

“That’s great, Lady C, I really appreciate the offer, I’m sure it’ll be great fun as well as teaching us some things about sewing.”

“The other girls might want in on it as well,” I knew Trish enjoyed playing with needles and thread and Livvie was moderately competent and might join in too. At this rate we’d end up with a sewing bee. Oh well better than wasting time in front of the TV watching football.

When, Brenda, Cindy’s mum arrived to collect her, Cindy was excited to tell her about the sewing lessons. She looked relieved and during a cuppa she explained that sewing was never her forte, in fact she’d hated it at school. Her mum didn’t sew, but her grandmother did but she lived miles away, so wasn’t handy to help her granddaughter. That someone was prepared to show Cindy how to do things, pleased her immensely and let her off the hook. Sadly, it meant I was committed to another pull on my time. I supposed I’d better decide on something to make for myself while supervising the others. I could do some embroidery or get some material and make a skirt or dress. There was also a tailor’s dummy up in Bristol which had belonged to my mother. I’m sure she’d be pleased it was still in use. It was a good one with adjustable bits on it so you could really make very fitted clothes, except I’m too plump at the moment to wear them.

By the time Cindy left, Danni was back to wearing makeup and painted nails not to mention drop earrings. I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. Is she going to swing from very girly to not girly at all depending upon the presence of Cindy? Surely that would make life even harder, as if she were two different people. Oh boy, things don’t seem to be getting easier. I think need to get Stephanie to schedule another appointment in the next few days just to make sure that what I’m doing is appropriate.

I’d have liked Danny to stay as my son. That isn’t likely now he’s been surgically converted to a girl. It being the case, that she is now female, I’d like to see if she can learn to enjoy the role and to be sure that what I’m doing is helping rather than hindering her life. Being a parent is a big responsibility–with no training courses whatsoever.