Friday, 30 March 2012

I’m a little teapot


It’s toilet-training time. My baby has grown up.
Well, almost!
I'm in the kitchen. The almost 3-year-old is in the family room practically naked and just out of sight. He’s playing with Topsy Turtle – the game with the green and yellow talking musical turtle. I’m reassured by the recurrent dum di dum di dum di dum di dum dum di dum di dum di dum dum di… and lulled into a false sense of security.
My mantra - where there’s noise, there’s no trouble.
dum di dum di dum … I’m really up high …di dum di dum dum di…
The coloured pile of counters fall. He starts again.
dum di dum di dum di dum di dum dum di…
 ‘Mam’, he shouts.
‘Yes’, I reply!
‘Look’ he exclaims.
I look, automatically at first, then with that ‘oh no, what next’ feeling.
‘Wee wee’, he cries excitedly holding the Topsy turtle box.
‘Where?’ I ask.
‘Here’, he answers wide-eyed, pointing in the box.
He puts the box on the ground, one hand on his bum, the other hand on his “wee wee” and starts singing
 I’m a little tea pot
short and stout,
Here’s my handle and
here’s my spout.
The teapot box is duly filled!
The turtle is upturned, left to crawl the air.
dum di dum di dum di dum di dum dum di…

Thursday, 1 March 2012

The Merc Rat

My brother has a merc.

He now has a rat, who also likes mercs.
He opened the boot and saw that his coat was gnawed through. He searched the car but found nothing. Then the groceries he had bought for his son at university were selectively munched. It liked noodles. Again no sign of the rat, no indication of how it got in or how it got out.
The next incident happened on the road. He switched on the indicator and all the lights came on. Off to the mechanic. The car was stripped down. No rat.
We cannot afford a merc, and probably never will. But my husband reckons that this rat is a metaphor for post Celtic Tiger Ireland. We all have a merc rat, he says, something never seen or caught but gnawing away elusively and dangerously from the inside… a health scare, a massive mortgage, a strained relationship, a dead-end job, or  no job.  
Well… definitely not one of his more humorous insights.  And certainly not the time to mention a new couch!
By the way, the mechanic found the internal wires eaten away – hanging by a thread.
The material damage: 1000 euros.  The mechanic told him that it only a matter of time before the car stopped dead on the motorway.
Fingers crossed for the rest of us…