Today was the first time that I’ve babysat both the children together. I have Squiffany regularly, but if Dilly is going out for more than an hour or two, she will probably need to feed the baby so she’d rather take him than have to hurry back. This morning, however, she had an appointment and wanted me to hold the fort for an hour or so.
It was remarkably easy. Pugsley lay on his back playing with toys for a while, then sat on my knee. Then he sat on his sister’s lap while she sat on mine. We read a book (The Three Little Pigs, in French, a little to my bemusement) and tickled each other a bit.
Later, Dilly and Pugsley went out for lunch and Squiffany and I had a good day together. She demonstrated her ability to count to ten – this is a new development, she was only reliable to five last week. Dilly credits Al with their daughter’s large vocabulary; he is a born teacher. When his brother was about two, ten-year-old Al taught him addition and subtraction in the conservatory, using flowerpots.
She had tomato soup, pasta, scrambled eggs and a clementine for lunch. She shared the pasta with Tilly the dog. “Here you are, Tilly, nice and warm, not too hot,” she said, putting a piece on the chair next to her for me to flick on the floor.
After lunch, we went shopping. First to see Daddy, then to the chemist to buy cream to make Granny beautiful (never too late, hey) and make-up for disguise in case it didn’t work. Then off to the Co-op. I’d told Squiffany that I hadn’t any wine and “If I don’t drink wine, what will I be able to drink?” “Whisky,” she replied helpfully.
I told her father. “Will Granny need a little wine, or lots and lots?” he asked her. “Lots and lots,” she confirmed. “Does Granny drink a little wine or too much?” “Too much wine” she replied predictably.
I’m getting clues here about what my family say about me behind my back. They tease, of course. I do not drink too much. Ever.