Memories of a Crackpot Incident
(Names Changed to Protect the Guilty)
The two-year-old I was babysitting waited up for its parents to arrive home, having stubbornly refused to lie down and listen to bedtime stories and who was seemingly immune to the 'Grumpy Uncle' routine I had adopted for the tedious occasion. In that case, I reasoned, it could damn-well sit in silence beside me on the couch while I watched dozens of Louis CK clips on YouTube via the wide-screen television. This it did, whilst feeding its face with the crunchy, deep-fried confections that its mother firmly believed were a 'healthy option' because they were 'vegetarian'. It also guzzled milk from a plastic, spouted cup.
At 11.45 pm the parents arrived home. The child looked up at them as they came through the door and immediately expelled a jet of projectile vomit out into the room and over its clothes and the couch we were sitting on. It began to grizzle.
The mother immediately snatched the dripping bundle up to her bosom and embarked on a truly numbing monologue.
"Oh, Harry.... Don't cry... It was an accident.... You didn't mean to make a mess... We'll clean it all up... I know you are frightened.... But remember, Mummy is always there for you... Whenever you don't feel very well, Mummy will always be there to make it all right... I will never leave you... I know you are confused by what has happened, but it is all ok... You don't need to worry... This will happen from time to time.... But it is all ok... " And so on.
'Daddy' was not mentioned during the monologue, and neither did he say anything to the child - clearly, this was the mother's preserved demarcation. He did, however, fetch a moistened cloth with which he half-heartedly smeared the vomit around the leather couch for a couple of minutes. I suggested that some disinfectant might be in order. He replied that the damp cloth would be sufficient. It wasn't, because days later the overpowering stench of rancid, curdled milk and stomach acids was truly mind-bending. Perhaps it was because I was an outsider that I noticed it? The parents paid it no heed whatsoever.
The two-year-old I was babysitting waited up for its parents to arrive home, having stubbornly refused to lie down and listen to bedtime stories and who was seemingly immune to the 'Grumpy Uncle' routine I had adopted for the tedious occasion. In that case, I reasoned, it could damn-well sit in silence beside me on the couch while I watched dozens of Louis CK clips on YouTube via the wide-screen television. This it did, whilst feeding its face with the crunchy, deep-fried confections that its mother firmly believed were a 'healthy option' because they were 'vegetarian'. It also guzzled milk from a plastic, spouted cup.
At 11.45 pm the parents arrived home. The child looked up at them as they came through the door and immediately expelled a jet of projectile vomit out into the room and over its clothes and the couch we were sitting on. It began to grizzle.
The mother immediately snatched the dripping bundle up to her bosom and embarked on a truly numbing monologue.
"Oh, Harry.... Don't cry... It was an accident.... You didn't mean to make a mess... We'll clean it all up... I know you are frightened.... But remember, Mummy is always there for you... Whenever you don't feel very well, Mummy will always be there to make it all right... I will never leave you... I know you are confused by what has happened, but it is all ok... You don't need to worry... This will happen from time to time.... But it is all ok... " And so on.
'Daddy' was not mentioned during the monologue, and neither did he say anything to the child - clearly, this was the mother's preserved demarcation. He did, however, fetch a moistened cloth with which he half-heartedly smeared the vomit around the leather couch for a couple of minutes. I suggested that some disinfectant might be in order. He replied that the damp cloth would be sufficient. It wasn't, because days later the overpowering stench of rancid, curdled milk and stomach acids was truly mind-bending. Perhaps it was because I was an outsider that I noticed it? The parents paid it no heed whatsoever.
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