A Melodrama Of Manners

"The only way to guarantee attention in this day and age," he said, "is to ensure that you will be wearing the biggest hat in the room."

Monday, July 17, 2006

I seem doomed to never sleep alone again; and this has nothing to do with my sex life. I'm back at my mother's house; and my little brother will not leave me alone.

At all.

Last night I woke up to find him wriggling his way in between the covers- "I had a nightmare Mogcat"
"Pardon?"
"I had a nightmare."
"Yes, I heard that bit sweetie. What did you call me?"

Blah. He's just learned how to spell my name; he's currently pronouncing the 'g' bit with a 'g' sound, not a 'j' one.

(Incidentally, his teacher's a complete and utter prat and fool of the first water; when doing a story about his thrilling weekend, he asked her how to spell my name and she told him to change it, because she didn't know. Just how difficult is it?)

iMOGen; he wrote it out for me- in eyeliner on the window- just in case I wasn't keeping up. He's been spending entirely too much time with my mother; she's very good at spreading the patronising bug.

The 'cat' bit is not entirely unfounded, and might make sense to an eight year old brain- my cat is also refusing to let me sleep alone.

Which would be fine, as it's all very well and cute, except the one- imaginatively named Felix- wakes me up before dawn to go hunting (I imagine, from the amount of partially dead things he keeps bringing into the cottage) and the other- Theo- wakes me up at actual dawn. He's very keen; back in the day I'd get up at the last minute to be on time for school, but he's up and about a good three hours before school starts.

But, being so blonde and cute- I have a weakness for blonde people with blue eyes, I let them walk all over me- when he wakes me up and asks nicely for me to make him breakfast, I do it.
Which surprised even me; I don't make myself breakfast- on the grounds that it's too much effort- but all he has to do is bat his eyelashes at me, and I'll look up Delia's wishfully entitled Idiot Proof Guide to Pancake Making.

---------------

He got his school report on Friday; the summary reads - Theodore is a wonderful addition to our class, he joins in with all classwork and is a vocal member in group work. He will go far.

My school report for the same year (3) read - Imogen has a delightful sense of humour but needs to curb her impulsive side.

But it's a good sign; he can pay off all my debts (ie my outrageous student loan one) when he's rich and doing more than I'm going to do with my life. I could even be the spinster sister who gets up at dawn to make him pancakes and walks him to school/ work wearing enough makeup not to embarrass him in return for a penthouse apartment in central London.

I am indeed at the beck and call of an eight year old.

I agreed to walk him to school this morning along the scenic route- through the foresty bit while wearing flipflops and a skirt; my legs are now completely covered in insect bites.
And my right thumb, for some reason.

I'm still learning to curb my impulsive side.

82 Comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home