The Christmas holidays were... ages ago. Because I am totally lazy and keep putting off writing, even though I actually enjoy writing when I actually start writing. Because my brain is a dick.
Anyway, both TheBloke (TM) and I were off work for a decent stretch, and now we're both working full-time, we don't get to take the toddler to baby classes anymore. So we thought we'd take her to our local library who were hosting Rhyme Time. It was either that or watch more Bing which is basically crack for toddlers.
At 10 a.m. we were the only people in the children's section of the library.
At 10.02 the largest person I've ever seen walking unaided flopped into a chair, and put a CD player on the floor next to her.
At 10.05 We all (by which I mean me, the librarian and TheBloke (TM)) started singing to Old McDonald. The toddler picked her nose.
At 10.06 after a duck, a dog, a sheep and a pig, I realised how long Old McDonald actually is, and wondered about downsizing his farm.
At 10.07 the librarian had some sort of tuberculotic coughing fit, almost exactly in time to the music: "...with a *hack hack* here and a *hack hack* there" ("Old McDonald had TB, ee-i-ee-i-o"). TheBloke (TM) got the giggles, and had to leave the children's section and collect his thoughts by the "surviving domestic abuse" shelf. As he stood there giggling (but looking a bit like he was crying), concerned members of staff shot him sympathetic looks.
At 10.09 the toddler lost interest in Old McDonald and wandered off to find Daddy. It was just me and the librarian left.
My enduring memory of Christmas is sitting in the children's library singing Old McDonald to an obese librarian.
When another baby arrived five minutes later, I greeted his father like an old friend. Even when his child literally put his fingers in the toddler's eye sockets, I was delighted for their company.
We might just stick to CBeebies from now on.
