Despite the inauspicious beginning we had a really lovely
morning. The weather was beautiful and she was so good. We went to the park together and she chatted away feeding me pretend food “tiens maman, du saumon et des pommes de terre, do you want a lollipop?” One of the other mothers said “she speaks like a three year old” and my heart filled with unbearable smugness though it is unclear to me how this woman would know as her own child is only 20 months and she was certainly far too young to have any older children.
Then we then went for breakfast together (yeah, well, we had to try again after the earlier disaster). She spent her time between mouthfuls of yoghurt intermittently chatting to me and to her father (via her large green plastic mobile phone). It was a pity she wouldn’t actually talk to him on the real phone when he called this morning, but you can’t have everything. I could hear the people beside us talking about her and saying what a good child she was and how much fun it must be going out to eat with her. Let’s not push it here people, but still, all very gratifying. She was even good at mass which unprecedented event was noted by the kindly priest when he chatted to her on our departure. I found this a little alarming as it clearly means he does notice her, ahem, slightly less
virtuous behaviour on other Sundays. He asked whether she had been baptised and I was able to set his mind at rest on this point. Does he really think that I would take my two year old to mass every Sunday and chase her round the back of the church yet somehow not have got around to christening her? Humph.
When we got home, I found that I had two little black handprints on my back from where the Princess had given me a hug in the sandpit after I had applied suncream. Otherwise I am sure I presented an immaculate appearance at breakfast and at mass. As I put her to bed for her nap, I decided to
apply some wisdom from Supernanny which was given to us by the publishing exec on her last visit (no hint intended, I am sure) and which I had been flicking through during the Liveaid extravaganza and told her that I had had a lovely morning and she had been really good. She seemed most pleased. I hope she will like as much the firm but fair “voice of authority” which I intend to try out next time she unloads her dinner on the floor.
on 20 June 2005 at 16:22
Locotes, well we live in a flat so we’d actually have to put her outside the front door for a naughty step so that seems a bit extreme – we’ll see how we get on with the voice of authority.
Bobble, you are very kind and, quite clearly, half Italian.
Pog, no, truly, I promise you. 
