Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...
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Pity the Small(er) One. Her fourth birthday is next week and I thought I was spoiling her by planning to bake two cakes - one for her classmates at school and one for the afternoon tea party she is having the next day with her aunts and cousins. The goodie bags will contain the usual plastic tat and a couple of mini-sized chocolate bars.
Now I realise that the poor child has been done wrong by her utterly scummy mummy.
The Wiggles? FONDUE restaurant? Guitars and CDs instead of goodie bags?
The world has gone mad.