The importance of being boss (by Bear)


Hello hello!

While Mummy’s napping*, I thought I’d update you on my recent escapades. It’s been a busy few months and I don’t have much time to sit down. Or sit still. Or stand still. Or relax. You get the picture – I’m a very busy girl.

*Ha. She wishes.

I may be little, but I don’t think the ‘rents totally understand how much I actually ‘get’ these days. For instance, shops – I can sense a shop outing a mile off. They can try and placate me with plenty of advanced warnings that we’re going in the car, we’re going for a drive, we’re going into town, it’ll be fun blah blah blah. And don’t get me wrong, I appreciate them mixing it up a bit by putting these warnings in stupid song format, but song format doesn’t change the fact that we are going TO A SHOP.

No, a shop is a shop and try as I might they still insist on a weekly food shop, the odd trip to buy milk and bread, venturing to the Post Office or – the worst of all – a shopping centre with a whole load of shops (what’s that all about?!)

Being the boss
My main mission at the moment is to show them who’s boss (clue: it’s neither Mummy or Daddy). I put my foot down at going in my buggy, and to those on the same mission here is a tip – wait until you’re in public (proper public, where there are lots of people around but it’s nice and peaceful), wait until they lift you up and turn in the direction of the pushchair, then go as rigid as you possibly can. What are they going to do? Karate chop you?

I’m the same with the car seat and supermarket trolleys – I go from happy to crazy in 0.3 seconds, tense every muscle in my body and resist every effort to sit me down. The security guard at Tesco smiled sympathetically last time we went (although he might have been directing it at Mummy…I can’t be sure).

We had a lovely day out in a quaint, pretty village last week, with the silence disturbed by my howling and Mummy trying to make me bend. I won. Apparently we won’t be going there again in a hurry. Shame.

Trolleys, buggies & carseats are a no-go. The shoe basket, however...

Trolleys, buggies & carseats are a no-go. The shoe basket, however…

Signing up to RADA
I’ve been practicing my audition for drama school by fake crying. A lot. It’s a lot of fun (for me). If I want something, if I don’t want something, if I want something quicker, if it comes but I decide I don’t want it anymore – these are all excellent opportunities to turn on the waterworks. Although I think the olds might be cottoning on – when I can’t squeeze an actual tear out, they tend to ignore me. I don’t know why.

Food, glorious rubbish food
I continue to keep them on their toes when it comes to mealtimes – they love it!

Food is for losers

Food is for losers

A few weeks ago, for the millionth time, they put some of this stuff called ‘ham’ on my plate. I know, I know – goodness knows why I would want to eat meat on its own. But it was Mother’s Day so I treated them and ate a whole slice. It was actually very nice and you should have seen their little faces, they were so happy.

They gave me some ‘ham’ the next day too. I didn’t eat it. I haven’t touched the stuff since. I throw it on the floor.

Life lessons
Mummy and Daddy have been teaching me things – life skills, by all accounts. I now know how to “be gentle” (I’m usually told this after slapping one of them round the face), so redeem myself by giving them a much gentler and slower slap which they seem to prefer.

Mummy has also been making me smell pretty flowers when we go out for walks, because for some reason we apparently “don’t hit the daffodils!” She didn’t mention anything about not eating them though. They taste revolting – I wouldn’t recommend it.

Or soap. Don’t eat soap. Or mud. I learnt this the hard way so that you don’t have to.

A new family member
I woke up one morning and this had appeared just outside my bedroom door.


Yes, that’s right peeps – I have a pet fairy! I spend a lot of time opening the door to see if she is there, and Mummy and Daddy seem happy that I’ve stopped faffing and taking an age to get upstairs at bedtime because I’m in a rush to visit her. To date she looks a lot like the skirting board, but I still like to check.

I’ve got high hopes – perhaps she’ll leave me a present, or a bunch of yummy flowers to eat, but she’s not come up trumps just yet. I heard Mummy mention something about the fairy looking after my dummies one day (something to do with taking them away? FOR GOOD???) but I either misheard her or she has lost her mind.

Easter shenanigans
I’m very excited about Easter and spending some time with all of my cousins/partners in crime. I refuse to eat chocolate despite people’s best efforts, and I refuse to eat hot cross buns (I ate one a few Thursdays ago and loved it – why would I want to do it again?), so traditional Easter food will be fun. Still, if we go for a picnic there’ll be plenty of flowers and mud, so I won’t go hungry.

Right, I’d better go – Mummy has had just over 2 minutes of peace so normality needs to be restored. She did mention a trip to Tesco’s….let battle commence.

Love, Bear xx


Happy Easter!

Happy Easter!

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