The genetic code

The Princess is very like her Daddy. Everyone says that she looks just like him. She acts just like him too. She is the only toddler who is VERY cautious. The other day her father
offered to lift her up to walk along a wall and she looked at him as though he was mad and said reprovingly “c’est PAS un bonne idée, je peux tomber!”

There is, however, one respect in which she very much resembles her mother and this is in her desire to communicate.  Constantly.  Her Dublin grandfather calls her Mademoiselle Blah Blah.  Already, she has realised how socially useful this can be (stop sniggering). On Sunday, a friend of Mr. Waffle’s came to lunch and during proceedings, the Princess and I had to depart to the bathroom. As she sat on her little pot she looked up at me anxiously “Mummy, who talks to Luca?” “Daddy will talk to him sweetheart”.  I must say, she looked distinctly dubious at the proposition that her father and his friend could keep up a conversation without our assistance; you have to sympathise.

I have explained to her that when her father is trying to give directions or read maps in the car, she must stop talking for
everyone’s sake. She finds this deeply unsatisfactory and now every time she sees a map she wails dolefully “mais moi,
je veux PARLER”. That’s my girl.

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