BABY SALE 22nd October 2016

POST 075

 

BABY (I WAS BORN WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE) GEORGE'S BLOG

AGED 5 MONTHS

 

BABY SALES - SCARY

 

 

Welcome to my world. Yes this is George, I am every minute of five months old and loving life out here in the outside world. Big things have been happening in my world this week. I like big things to happen in my world every week. Every Sunday night between snoozes I like to smile and to be able to say “This week I have learnt…” But if ever there was nothing I suppose it would not matter and I would still smile and  life would just carry on as normal.

Well the big thing this week is that I have mainly been learning to eat baby rice. I can’t say it is steak, or ribs, or burger or fish and chips. But it has more substance than milk, although it is a bit bland.

As you know I am very laid back, but for the first time in my life and five months remember, I was a little unsettled this week.

I suppose I was slightly unsettled when I was cutting some teeth, a few weeks ago, too. Who wouldn’t be? It is painful. Adults are supposed to be so in charge of everything. Why haven’t they invented plastic teeth? You could put them on a specially made plate that fits in your mouth. That would mean you do not have to cut teeth and go through that pain.

When my generation are people we will invent some.

But this week I was a little unsettled because of two things. First I needed wholesome food. Good solid food to fill my belly. And second, mum kept talking about a baby sale.

Now, I do not know whether you know but babies cannot choose their parents, you get what you are given. A poor system, I know. I was just getting used to mine and their idiosyncrasies, when I heard mum tell dad she was going to a baby sale. Oh no! Does that mean they are going to sell me to the highest bidder? It is a shame I was becoming rather fond of my mum and dad. I was a little uneasy after hearing the conversation especially when Sunday, the day of the sale dawned.

But my luck changed, Grandad  Robinson and mamma turned up. I knew I was safe if they were there. Boy did I laugh with relief. Mum went off with Grandad to the baby sale and mamma went off with Freya, leaving me with dad for a father and son bonding session.

So what a brilliant day it will be after all. I should have known better than get caught up in life’s worries I could kick myself for being so gullible. A day home with dad I smiled, he’s bound to give me my first Big Mac and chips, Yes! Real food that I am desperate for. And we will sit and watch a ball game on TV even if it does make dad sad. Just as an aside, do you know,  my dad has not yet bought me a football. No wonder I’m kicking myself. That’s neglectful. I keep trying to grab his or mum’s phone to ring the NSPCC or Social Services, but they snatch it off me to stop me.

But my day with dad did not work out like that. Infact I ended up forcing a smile with the same no substance bottle and we went to the pub with Grandad Reed and Nanny.

When mum returned home everything fell into place. She had sold all my old baby clothes. You see I am a big boy now. I wear little boy clothes not baby clobber. People paid lots and lots of money to her for my clothes. Grandad Robinson thinks people bought my clothes as an investment because they will be valuable when I am a big celebrity. There were some of Freya’s old clothes too. I think mummy made nearly a thousand pounds. It must have been that much because finally mum and dad had enough money for the first time since I was born, 5+ months ago to buy me some proper food, “BABY RICE”! I think baby rice costs £1,000. I’d give all the money in my moneybox for it any day. It is beautidelicious.

Now I know its not steak and chips but it is better than milk and it fills me up more than milk. It is real food and it is bordering on a Chinese takeaway. So I’m smiling. Maybe Baby Sales are good.

© 2016 Phil Robinson www.jeanniejeanniejeannie.co.uk

 

When I was a lad at school around 13 years old, our Maths teacher used to call me Wol. At the end of the year as we were moving up a class I plucked up courage to ask why he called me Wol. He told meit was thename of the deslexic owl in Winnie the Pooh. With my Harry Potter glasses he said I looked like the Wise Old Owl in the Winnie the Pooh stories.

 

Being the vain person I am I took it as a compliment

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