Warning: this post contains potty-mouthed humour and something rather disgusting, for which I apologise. I stay away from it as a rule, but yesterday I had no option but to face up to some crap.
NG wants to go to the park for the second time today.
I do not particularly – partly because it is hot and I have Dennis elbow from pushing NG’s little boyfriend on the swings. But mainly because NL out-did himself in the Labrador greed stakes earlier, roaming wildly around the field, Geiger countering dropped crisps before turning his attention to NG’s poo and – there is no easy way to say this – eating it (sorry. sorry).
This was incredibly embarrassing – obviously – for two reasons. Firstly, in an awesome leap forward in our family’s potty training tragedy, NG had several goes on the slide muttering,
“my poo is coming, my poo is coming,”
prompting other toddlers and their parents to scuttle sideways out of our way. Meanwhile NL, tied mercilessly by me to a sycamore tree because dogs aren’t allowed in the enclosed play area, barked jealously from his position of tethered woe.
Also, we forgot the travel potty (I KNOW. I blame no sleep for the last two nights) and so, after NG ceremoniously took her pants off at the bottom of the slide, I parked my house moving daydreams, croaked, “right, move!”, hopped off my bench, shoved NC’s buggy towards the gate and frog-marched them both to the shady area where NL proceeded to lick NG’s bare bum and then my face.
“My poo is DEFNITLY COMING MUMMY!” NG’s look was rapturous as she put her Peppa Pig hand-held rotating blades down carefully and deposited a solid, neat turd on the grass. Before I could say ‘shit hits the fan’ it disappeared into NL’s jaws. So you could say I would be fine leaving him behind for the afternoon walk.
NW rings me after lunch, just as I am preparing to strap them all into the buggy for round two.
“I think I’ll leave him behind,” I say. He’s going to be 11 in July – quite an age for a Lab – so I don’t think I’m being mean.
“But he loves swimming and it’s so hot,” my husband says breezily from his air-conditioned office near Paddington. “What have you all had for lunch?”
“Cheese omelette. Again.”
“Well, that should bind her up. She’s unlikely to do two poos in the space of a few hours, surely? And just bring the travel potty this time.” He hangs up and I think about the Duchess of Cambridge.
Earlier this week, she was supposedly spotted walking in Kensington Gardens, holding George’s hand and pushing (presumably) Charlotte in a Silver Cross. She was wearing a long, blue skirt which royal fashion watchers remarked might have been an influence from her recent trip to India.
I run upstairs to change because I’m bloody hot in my jeans and a thought occurs. Rifling through my wardrobe, I find a maxidress with a fairly robust skirt, which will fit my needs nicely. NL eyes me warily from the bottom of the stairs as I descend and NG looks at me hard.
“Mummy, why are you wearing that bootiful cullfull dress?” she says, licking chocolate Petits Filous off her hand.
“Because we’re going for a walk in a minute and I just read that a famous lady wore a long skirt to the park. She didn’t bring her dog with her, though.”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe because he eats poo?” she asks happily, looking at me for approval.
“Yes. Maybe.” I sigh as I take the dog lead off the hook and search for a ball. “Come on,” I say to NL, who has started to drool. “At least if there’s another poo on the grass I’ve got it covered.”
“How?” asks NG with interest, dropping a large dollop of yoghurt on the floor. Before NL can swoop, I flounce my skirt over it watch it settle like a mother hen over the mess.
“Mummy, that’s amazing!” NG says approvingly, and reaches for her Peppa Pig face cooler.
“Thank you darling,” I say, reaching for the toy before she has a chance to press the button. “But we don’t need this. You’re my best fan. Let’s put this one away until I’ve given it a good wash.”
KEY TO CHARACTERS
Characters are abbreviated as follows:
NW – not William (husband and father)
NG – not George (daughter, sister and two and three quarter year old)
NC – not Charlotte (son, brother and eight month old)
NL – not Lupo (a Labrador)