Monday, 11 May 2015
Armed & Dangerous (The Adventures of L-Plate Gran)
It is becoming clearer by the week that it's impossible to navigate modern city streets with a baby in a buggy and the current meagre allocation of upper limbs. Take the other day. It was very windy with a side order of drizzle. Little G was kicking off because she was overtired and I'd hustled her into the buggy to walk her to sleep without the requisite yellow spoon and small plastic biscuit (don't ask).
I'd mislaid the buggy bag strap, so I had to hold my bag on one arm, which meant negotiating passersby with a one-handed manoeuvre that would have caused me to fail my driving test. And then the badly packed and poorly zipped baby bag decided to shed its contents all over the pavement.
So here's the dilemma. Do I abandon the buggy and rush around collecting stuff - risking someone walking off with Little G, (currently at WW2 siren level) or do I sacrifice all her snacks, spare nappies and favourite toys for the sake of preserving her for posterity?
Had I two pairs of hands, I could have held the buggy with one pair and picked up the stuff with the other. A prehensile tail might been an acceptable alternative. Evolution isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Luckily, a nice elderly gentleman took pity on my predicament, and helped collect my stuff for me, and a couple of mums with buggies formed a human shield round Little G. But it did make me wonder. If plastic surgery can augment other parts of the body, why not arms? Temporary ones, maybe. At least for those of us elderly inadequates left in charge of very small children.
To be continued ... ...