Well, who was this fella?
I was surprised to encounter a new arrival when I woke from my morning nap (aka Mother’s favourite part of the day. My eyes are barely closed before she’s knocking back the recliner on the chair, flicking over to some nauseating daytime movie and working her way through the selection of snacks she keeps beside the sofa. I cannot tell you the amount of times I have woken to find her brushing crumbs from my hair, and on one occasion, I was even woken by a crisp falling upon my head, much to Mother’s regret as I do not take kindly to being roused against my will). Anyway, fortunately for everyone – and especially Mother – I had arrived back from the land of Nod in a good mood, a mood which was only enhanced by the sight of the rather delightful fluffy chap in front of me.
‘Hello,’ I said warmly. He didn’t reply but his face was kind and inviting so I felt confident enough to reach out and pat him. He felt soft and furry and nice. I patted my hand up and down some more.
‘Ah look darling, she loves the new doorstop,’ said Mother.
‘See,’ said Father smugly. ‘I told you it was a good purchase.’
Mother narrowed her eyes. ‘I didn’t say that. I still think it was a waste of money. It looks ridiculous.’
‘The baby doesn’t think so.’
Mother tutted. ‘Do you like the strange furry thing darling?’ asked Mother, bending down to where I was, my hand still on the new fella’s back.
I eyed Mother sternly. Well, that was the height of rudeness I thought, calling our new guest ‘strange’ right in front of him. And she was one to talk; I’m sure that anyone would give her a wide berth, especially wearing such excruciatingly ugly slippers. ‘I’m sorry about her,’ I muttered as an aside to the newcomer but fortunately he took it in good nature.
‘What do you think we should call him?’ asked Father, crouching down.
I mused upon this for a while. Well, to be honest, I forgot what I had been asked when I was briefly distracted by my stacking cups. But after a while I suggested: ‘I rather like the name Mr Furry, as he is indeed a gentleman and he is very, very furry,’ I said sensibly, pleased if not a little bemused to be given the opportunity to name the chap. Most visitors to our house already have their name all set so I don’t normally get this chance to have my say.
‘Baa Baa,’ announced Father proudly, completely misinterpreting my words, as usual.
‘It’s Mr Furry,’ I said, firmly, and was suitably ignored.
‘Baa Baa,’ he said. ‘Baa Baa.’
Stupid man, now I couldn’t get Baa Baa out of my head. So that’s what he became.
I was getting bored so I went to pick up Baa Baa but Mother, as usual, scuppered my plans.
‘No darling,’ said Mother, picking me up instead. ‘You have to leave Baa Baa there. He has to keep the door open.’
I glanced across and realisation dawned on me. Mother was right; Baa Baa was being used to hold ajar the door. Well. This really was something viagra prix belgique. I know my parents are unbelievably rude but to put a guest, a visitor, a newcomer to our home to work like this…they really were a disgrace. I expressed my disgust loudly and firmly.
‘Oh dear,’ shouted Father, someone’s hungry.
I wasn’t hungry, I was angry, but as you know by now, I’m never one to turn down milk. After a delightful and nourishing drink, I was happily ensconced on my playmat, chatting to RoRo when out of the corner of my eye I spotted the furry chap again. At first I was confused and then I remembered – it was Baa Baa!
‘Hello Baa Baa,’ I yelled loudly across to him. ‘Look RoRo, this is Baa Baa.’
I waited for RoRo to say hello but no greeting was forthcoming. RoRo is a rabbit who is very much monosyllabic to the point of silence but this time I sensed something was wrong.
‘RoRo, Baa Baa’s a great chap. You’ll like him,’ I said again.
Nothing. I glanced at RoRo. He was staring into the distance refusing to make eye contact with Baa Baa. Hmmm, I was starting to get the sense that perhaps RoRo wasn’t very keen on Baa Baa.
‘Here you go darling,’ said Father. ‘Here’s Baa Baa for you to play with,’ he added, glancing over his shoulder at Mother’s departing back.
I frowned at Father. Well, I tried to but at my youthful age, lines and creases are not forthcoming, unlike Mother who frequently walks around with a furrowed brow, particularly when looking for her mobile phone which she always loses, usually down the side of the sofa. ‘Father,’ I snapped. ‘This is not a good time.’ I was aware of the atmosphere between my two friends – one old and one new – and I suspected neither would welcome being in such close proximity yet. Trust Father to put his massive, bumbling foot in it.
I was right to be anxious as I then watched RoRo and Baa Baa, backs to each other. It reminded me of when Mother’s cousin comes to visit. Mother’s cousin loves to tease Father about things such as the terrible hat he wore that looked like a cat on the side of his head. Father smiles to her face but behind her back I’ve seen him pull the rudest faces. He’s very fortunate that I can’t yet talk.
‘Well,’ I said at last, breaking the awkward silence. ’You two don’t have to get along but can you at least try and be civil?’ I asked, to which I got no response. Really, this pair were acting extremely immature; they were behaving like grown-ups (N.B. I think the saying ‘behaving like a baby’ is extraordinarily insulting to mature and intelligent young people like me. So, in an act of defiance, I have exchanged the word ‘baby’ for ‘grown-up’ as in my experience, adults are the silly, ridiculous, idiotic ones.)
But, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t make RoRo and Baa Baa speak all day; I suspected that both were jealous of the other and each wanted to be my number one friend. Sadly, being such a popular, engaging baby has its disadvantages. And I had a feeling that RoRo, Baa Baa and I were in for some rocky times ahead….