‘Mummy, why has that man got boobies?’ asks my inquisitive child, as she joyfully frolics in the baby pool at the overly expensive, yet incredibly necessary David Lloyd Centre on Saturday.
Suddenly, I felt a sudden rush of colour to my cheeks and quickly changed the subject with a nervous laugh, trying in vain to avoid the glare of the poor man in question as he gently slips off the side of the pool into the water in order to hide his disturbing body parts.
This is just one of the many wonderfully awkward situations I seem to encounter on a daily basis with the Dynamic Duo. The problem is I have absolutely no idea how to deal with them in a mature, sympathetic or rational manner. I either find myself turning the colour of a Royal Mail post box or, mumbling various apologetic words like, ‘I’m so sorry,’ ‘they only three. Aren’t children funny?’
Truth be told, pool man did have man boobs - a fact obvious to all pool and restaurant goers, who were enjoying the delightful sights of scantily clad swimmers through the tinted glass of the floor to ceiling windows, whilst sipping their overheated cappuccinos. He clearly needed to stop taking refuge in the culinary delights of his wife’s cooking and say hello to the running machine. Man boobs are just not a good look!
But how do you explain to two three year olds that the truth isn’t always the right thing to say? Their perception of all things weird and wonderful seem to increase on an hourly basis. Yet our society silently dictates that it’s not the ‘done’ thing to point out peoples’ exaggerated physical attributes.
Over the past twelve months the Dynamic Duo have perfected the art of speech and I find myself repeatedly saying, ‘It’s not nice to say that’ or, ‘Don’t be so silly.’ It’s directional programming. Unfortunately, these simple comments are usually swiftly followed by a ‘But why Mummy, why?’
On a recent painstaking expedition to find the perfect outfit for one of the numerous forthcoming weddings (it’s one of those years again), I found myself trawling the streets for what seemed like an eternity with two moaning 3 year olds hanging off my legs. Thankfully, I soon discovered the one and only shop which not only sold outfits suitable for such an occasion, but also catered for those of us mothers who realise it’s time to say goodbye to Topshop and hello to the more forgiving items of clothing which hide the trademarks of childbirth.
After a quick once around, grabbing everything and anything sized 12 and up and calmly but firmly directing my off-spring not to touch anything, stay close and not to kiss the mirrors, we took possession of a changing room in the knowledge that at tops I had10 minutes.
I quickly tackled the clothes as the silent Duo sucked on their fruit shoots and M&M’s and then from out of nowhere, my wonderfully observant daughter launched into a diatribe of unnecessary and slightly unfair comments.
‘Mummy, look at your big belly.’
‘Yes, I know lovely,’ I said hoping to God the other customers werent listening. ‘Mummy, why have you got big boobies?’ This question was clearly for another time!
‘Stop talking and eat your biscuit.’
Then as I turned around to pick up another item of clothing, I realised I’d lost a child! Panic set in and I threw open the curtain to an array of startled faces before me and realised I was wearing very little. Luckily, a kind and sympathetic member of the motherhood fellowship informed me, ‘He’s over there’. I looked over and there lying on the floor peering underneath the curtains of the changing rooms was my beloved son.
‘Come here!’ I shouted a little too loudly.
‘Mummy, why’s that lady not wearing any pants?’ Dear God, could the situation get any worse?
I quickly grabbed him avoiding eye contact with the other customers and locked us back into the cubicle. Fighting back the tears, I fumbled my way into the last remaining dress and prayed that this was the one.
I slipped the beautiful maxi dress on over my head and watched as it fell to the floor. It was perfect. As I looked in the mirror, for a fleeting moment I was ‘me’ again until I heard those immortal words ‘Mummy, you can’t wear that! People will laugh at you.’
Stunned into silence I dressed and left the dressing room and made my way to the checkout defiant in my decision that I would - God dam it - wear that dress. But as I handed over my credit card I began to wonder whether I would ever bring myself to wear it.
Then a Eureka moment! She’s a three year old child for God’s sake. What the hell does she know about fashion? Most days she can be found playing in stripped leggings topped off with a pair of muddy Peppa Pig wellies, a princess skirt and an pink surfers’ t-shirt. The piece de resistance of course being a pair of angel wings and a very annoying wand.
And at that moment, I realised that there is a lot my wonderfully honest observant children can teach me on this road through Life but most importantly, don't take it all so seriously and sometimes honesty is the best policy!
Will check out the latest trends online tonight!
No comments:
Post a Comment