Twin girl is, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, a total and utter wimp.
She shrieks at spiders, shudders at loud bangs and is an appalling poor patient when ill.
Recently she has been suffering with a horrendous hacking cough. If you imagine Bet Lynch after smoking twenty B&H on the trot then you have the noise that my daughter emits every three minutes. It sounds like she is trying to bring up a fur ball that is buried deep within her lungs.
I have been sympathetic and tolerant but at 4am this morning when sleep was wrenched from me by a child endlessly coughing and spluttering my loving mummy side simply got up and buggered off to where-ever my patience went to a few years ago. Deprived of sleep and not relishing another evening of back rubbing and cough remedy medicine administering I decided enough was enough and sought professional help; from the playground mums.
One mum came up trumps,
‘try rubbing Vick’s on the soles of her feet and then sleeping in socks,’ she suggested ‘it works everytime for mine.’
Convinced that this was a viable plan, purely because we own Vicks and socks, I sat down this evening preparing to coat my eldest daughter’s feet in gloop. My firstborn however had very different ideas.
‘That is not going on my feet,’ she screeched, her face blanched in horror with tears streaking her pretty little cheeks. ‘Never in this world,’ she cried, tucking her feet firmly under her bottom and refusing to move.
I tried to reason with her, I tried to bribe her, and I am not embarrassed to say that I may have threatened her a little (with toy removal I hasten to add). Nothing worked.
Then as I was at my wits end, BB wobbled into the room, keen to see what the commotion was. Seeing her reminded me that I had not played the guilt card so grabbing my smallest child I held her triumphantly in front of twin girl and rolled up her sleeve exposing a tiny arm which was decorated with a teeny circular plaster.
‘Look,’ I sang, ‘look at BB, see she is really brave, she had blood taken from her arm today and she didn’t cry once, surely if she can do that you can take some feet rubbing.’
twin girl raised one eyebrow and looked at us both;
‘really?’ she said, standing to examine the wound.
‘poor BB,’ she crooned as she sat down again, feet firmly under her backside once more, and then she finished with…
‘I should have known really, it is obvious they stole your blood as you are shorter than this morning.’
then she turned to me with a stance…
‘and if that made her short who knows what rubbing gloop on me will do to my feet!’
How do you answer that?