Baby Annabelle

I have a mission! The mission being, to preserve the innocence of the wee girl for as long it is possible. Easy? Not in this mad world we live in, with a daily onslaught bombarding pre-teens with diets, images, and more innuendo than a Paul O'Grady routine.

She came down the stair the other day while I was slaving away at the/my cooker, and the whiff I got from the perfume she had on nearly knocked me off my feet.

“You’ve got perfume on?”
“SO!”
“It’s bloody stinking!”
“So do you!”
“Cheeky wee shite!”
“See you later fatty, I’m away out!”

SLAM!
A PAUSE< DOOR RE_OPENS

“Tell my Mum I’m away to such and such’s.”

SLAM

She is only bloody nine, when I was nine I had a bath on a Sunday night. (Even if I didn’t need it, we were posh.)

I was working when I first bought deodorant, and still to this day I use nothing but soap for washing, hair the lot. I do own some aftershave and contrary to popular belief there is nothing wrong with ‘Old Spice’.

On holiday last year I had to put up with tantrums every day because she wanted to wear a bikini, what on earth does a nine year old want to wear a bloody bikini for. Peer pressure, what a load of tosh. I didn’t care how long we sat in the room, she was not winning that argument and before any one starts, I know there are perverts out there, but my God, where will it end.

She takes longer to get ready than it takes both me and her Mum.

Nine years she’s been on this earth and we have had the same argument every year, the argument being, I refuse to allow the wean to get her ears pierced. You might think this is Victorian, and I wont argue with anyone else’s point of view. It’s my house, she’s my child and she is beautiful enough without two wee diamond studs in her ears, it’s the principal. Next it’ll be, ‘stop being silly Jack, all the kids at school have their belly buttons pierced’. Don’t laugh, its bloody coming.

Tops with straps; Barred
Make-up; Barred
Shoes/Boots with heels; Barred
Hand-bags; Barred

She has them, they think I’m daft, but they don’t come out when I’m around.

We/The family visited one of those B&Q superstores, the weans room is to be re-decorated, so I was informed, we were looking for a suitable pink paint for the walls and there was one called ‘Sexy Pink’, why? Its obviously targeted towards pre-teenage girls, or some boys with issues.

The ‘tubes’ were laughing at me for moaning, they think I’m mellowing, well I’m not and ‘Sexy Pink’ didn’t leave the store.

Oh and by the way, when I say the family, I include ‘Baby Annabelle’ in the equation, perfume, and she still plays with dolls.

There is nothing like a good doze of reality to make people realise how innocent nine year olds are.

I rest my case.