Last night we went out for dinner with some friends who have a daughter Dumpie's age. Midway through the meal there was an excited shriek and we all glanced over just in time to see Egg literally climbing the walls. (They were made of bamboo poles set just far enough apart to prove irresistible to a five year old.)
Friday, 4 June 2010
Dumpie was looking on proudly, clapping his hands and egging him on, having been momentarily distracted from a shouting match with the little girl (who is either his nemesis or his partner in crime depending on mood, situation and blood sugar levels).
Also dining with us was another couple, who also had a girl Dumpie's age. She however, spent most of the meal bent over her Ella Enchanted colouring book, her blond curls masking any potential disgust over how her fellow three year olds were letting the side down by acting like escaped mental patients.
When, moments later there was a scream and Eggie held out his arm, crying, to display the teeth marks where Dumpie had bitten him, the little girl started crying because she has a crush on Egg and was upset that he was hurt....and well, that's probably when all notions of a pleasant evening went out the door.
"I just don't bother anymore" I explained to the table, shrugging my shoulders and smiling sagely.
"It's an exercise in futility. Should I get up and do something about this, they will only do the same again or worse, in a few moments," I tried to explain.
The husband shot me a disgusted look and got up, clearly not buying my 'serene earth mother' approach (and neither was I really, but I so wanted to finish my delicious hot noodle and tofu dish without having to get up, vainly attempt to scare the monsters with 'whisper-threats' that they'd ignore anyway, and make a spectacle of myself.)
So the husband took Dumpie for a 'time out' outside, then came back and joined the table, oblivious that behind him, Dumpie had abandoned his punishment and was now gleefully jumping up and down on a nearby tabletop in his light blue Crocs, taunting the little girl and yelling something about his 'brudder' (brother).
I flashed the husband a 'see what I mean?' look and finished up my delicious meal.
Luckily Bali is so chock full of delicious eateries we need never return to the same place twice.
But I still shoved the takeaway menu in my bag as we left anyway.
Who am I kidding....
Posted by "Moaning Mum" at Friday, June 04, 2010