Tuesday, 16 February 2010
In which I am disconcerted, twice
My Beautiful Baby Daughter has returned home from her ski trip to Switzerland full of tales of her exploits. She was extremely proud of her certificate and twas proffered to me for perusal.
I was more than a little disconcerted when I read the adjective they'd chosen to describe her, a mother never wants her daughter to be thought of as saucy, especially not her 13 year old one. Now, the BBD is not a flighty or even flirty child, if I was choosing words to describe her I would use something like sensible or strident or forthright, her unkind siblings would choose bossy. So I was more than a little surprised to read saucy. On querying this I was reassured it was because she had spilled ketchup all down her cream pashmina, actually MY cream CASHMERE, VERY FECKIN EXPENSIVE, IN CAPITALS FOR EMPHASIS, pashmina which had gone on a wee jolly to Switzerland. Bet it wished it'd stayed at home in it's special wee sleeping bag with me now, that'll learn it, swanning off and getting ruined.
Reading further down, I was again, more than a little disconcerted to read that my 13 year old baby, who has never been on a mountain before, my teeny tiny baby girl who 3 days previously hadn't set eyes on a set of ski's in real life had won the speed test, clocking up a speed of 35 miles per hour. This rendered me momentarily speechless, and that takes some doing. My child, who is a human child, a regular human, managed to go faster than I drive most days. This is neither natural nor desirable.
Fortunately I remained in mummy denial land until she was safely home with her full complement of unbroken limbs and a fully functioning brain. Yes, I know, even after nigh on 18 years of parenting, I remain a horribly over protective mummy.