The Yorkshireman is away this week on a course, so ’tis just Little’un and I. And her nursery, thank god, as my bowels are once more irritated and I’ve had ANOTHER day off work today. FFFmmmmppppphhhhh. Not impressed. AT ALL. There could have been no way I could have coped with a toddler with seemingly 6 ten foot arms and a sudden urge to rearrange furniture so that she can climb up onto the windowsill whilst sat on the bog all day.
The Yorkshireman rang tonight while Little’un was still up, so she got to have a chat with him on the phone. Normally, she’ll natter away when there’s no-one at the other end of the line (apart from the BT Lady, “The number you have called is not recognised…”) but she would clam up completely if anyone actually talked to her. Tonight though she seemed to have a sudden realisation that REAL PEOPLE talk on phones as she sussed out straight away that her Daddy was talking to her and started chatting back to him.
All of a sudden her bottom lip started quivering and she handed the phone back to me looking genuinely confused and said, “Daddy! Stuck!”. Daddy’s incarceration in the handset didn’t bother her for too long though. Within 10 seconds she was back to posting biscuits into the DVD player or bashing the cat with her dolly or whatever it was she was doing when she was so rudely interrupted by the phone ringing.
You will all be pleased to hear that The Yorkshireman has recovered nicely from being minced up finely enough to fit in a 5″x2″x1″ telephone handet and will be attending his course tomorrow morning as planned.
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