Since my involuntary retirement some six months ago, my daughter has returned to full time work. This entails me getting a lot of grandchild minding exercise (and I mean exercise). I have two of the little buggers to look after. One is after school only (7 yo boy) but the other is full time twice a week and after (pre)school the other three days (3.5yo girl).
This has been an interesting exercise. I have become well acquainted with kids' programs on TV and have more episodes of Oomizoomi and Dora the Explorer recorded than anything else. I have also regained my skill at defusing tantrums (usually by saying something like "Shut the fuck up you little shit or I'll leave you here ALL ALONE!"
But sometimes I do mean things too. Like yesterday f'rinstance...
Some clown cut through our exit from a roundabout. I blasted the horn, as you do. 3.5yo says "What was that noise?" I reply "The horn. It's loud." (Stebel Nautilus).
"Huh!" says 7yo. "Didn't sound very loud to me." And his sister agreed "Not very loud!"
So I says "well, when we get home, you guys can stand in front of the car and I'll blast the horn and you can see if you still think its not very loud, OK?"
So we get home and they leap out and go stand in front of the car. With the closed garage door directly behind them...at which point I blasted it.
Hell's bells, the look of pure horror on my grand-daughter's face (and the lad's too I might add) was something else. It went through pure panic, to disbelief, to anger to "I am about to melt down." I should add that even I was surprised at just how loud it sounded when I heard it in that environment.
I managed to avoid the meltdown and was saved by Grandson who proceeded to piss his pants laughing. Herself joined in after a moment of doubt.
Little buggers wouldn't let me do it again though.
Maybe I shouldn't tell their Mum, eh.
Bookmarks