In which I am belatedly quick-witted

I find many things irksome, and I really don't try very hard to conceal it when I do. Perhaps I should. One of the things that irks me the most, or rather, one of the type of people who irks me the most, are the Competitive Mummies. 

I have two children. They are the most excellent creatures ever to grace the face of the Earth. They are handsome, clever, witty and charming. Well, I think so. But you (as a casual observer) would be forgiven for watching for a short while, and then quietly slipping away, muttering to yourself, "Unruly spawn! Beastly, vile creatures [explanatory note: the older one is very fond of picking his nose and eating what he finds. I am unable to disabuse him of the notion that 'boogers' are a delicacy] with nasty habits, doubly-incontinent and incoherent of speech. The little one is practically bald!"

The only thing in my favour since I reproduced is that I don't actually care if your child walked sooner than mine, or can talk more, or is already toilet trained. As my own wonderful Mammy says: "Do you know many adults who can't walk, talk or go to the toilet?"However,  I am in a minority. I am a little tired of the ceaseless comparisons, overt and covert, and the whole atmosphere that surrounds gatherings of Mummies. Sorry, lads, I'm not your Mummy. I'm your Mammy, and she's a whole other animal entirely.

On Sunday, a sort-of-colleague of the Spouse landed in the seat beside us at Mass. Her two children are both very similar ages to mine, and as soon as the Priest left the altar, she took pains to explain how fast her little one could crawl, and that he was pulling himself up to stand. Combine this with feigned horror at his tender age, and pointed looks at my fat wee lump who thinks rolling over is revolutionary (pardon the pun), and you'll understand why I spent Mass praying not to say anything mean to her. Dear Reader (and I think that there may not even be one of you), I was very good. Of course, I simmered all day and then had a brainwave at 4.30pm. What I should have said was, "Oh, isn't it funny how they grow up - sure remember how <my older> walked so much sooner than <your older>, and sure you'd never see the difference now at all!" 

I suppose it doesn't count as being good if you hold on to it until Tuesday and then blog about it. Ah well.

I remember when the Spouse and I were going out together. It was nice. I certainly didn't spend the evening  washing dishes, hearing a voice from upstairs thunder, "No! Take your hand out of there and flush it!" 

I think there's going to be a lot of poo on this blog. In more ways than one.