For her birthday Charlotte was given a rather annoying bright pink skipping rope with love heart shaped buttons which, when pressed, play very fast-paced boppy music with someone singing, “One, two, three and four….Come on…come on…up and down…up and down…”
Putting aside any filthy comments I might make regarding this little ditty, let me tell you that this wretched skipping rope is driving me nuts and has rapidly become the bane of my domestic existence. Most especially since Baby James likes to clutch it to him, switching it on and off ad nauseum.
Today while I was at home alone with the little man (who was sick with his sister’s gastro), I decided to try and entertain him by embracing the evil thing and showing him what it’s actually for. As the tinny androgynous voice urged me on I skipped…possibly for about the first time in fifteen years.
James giggled and laughed. It amused him no end. I, on the other hand, discovered just what the passage of time will do to your body’s jump rope abilities – especially when the passage of time has included two children who have…enhanced…certain…assets. Significantly.
As I threw myself into doing peppers for James he fell about clutching his little belly and cackling madly.
“MILKIES!” he screamed with delight, “MILKIES MAMA!”
Never again.
No comments:
Post a Comment