“It’s been an interesting 6 weeks. A while back, Mummy told me and my Chief Operating Officer Bessie during bath time she would be spending a lot more time with us, as she had given up the pesky part time job she used to travel to London for. To be honest I’m not sure I understood what she did at her job in London. Something about helping people to plan to meet with other people so that all the people can help other people with pain in their joints. Confusing right? Anyway, she told us she won’t be doing that job anymore because now we’re going to school and a new pre school someone needs to drop us off and pick us up. And Mummy has decided that she would like that someone to be her. She seems pretty excited, and a bit nervous about it. Personally, I don’t see why it’s a big deal. School is going to be awesome. They have a slide and loads of new boys and girls to play with and a big library. Getting there and back doesn’t seem that important when you think about the slide and new friends and books.
So to my report. Mummy says that the Trustees of GGL (that’s you, dear reader) would probably like an update on her progress. Mummy started off happy, muttering something about ‘not missing the 6 am cycle to the train station,’ but soon became a bit moody and teary. Why are Mummy’s always so emotional? It’s almost as if they don’t appreciate the 10 seconds they get to themselves at the beginning of a wee. Mummy’s so funny, she thinks we don’t know where she is when she goes to the toilet. Little does she know, we ALWAYS know where she is. When we shout ‘MUMMY, MUMMY, MUMMY!’ it’s more to freak her out than to actually locate her. I don’t know about Bessie, but I never tire of hearing her weary footsteps racing towards me as she panics that something is wrong. Bless her. One day she’ll wise up.
I suppose Mummy’s first day didn’t go so well. I didn’t mean to poo in the swimming pool, I was just so excited at being in a big bath of water that I forgot I needed one until it was coming out. I didn’t like making her sad. It makes me sad to make her sad. I told her this, and she said ‘sorry’ and gave me a cuddle. I couldn’t remember why I was upset then and so carried on messing with other peoples things, trying to lock myself in the lockers, putting my Batman underpants on my head and annoying Bessie. Annoying Bessie is THE BEST. I do it as much as I can get away with.
I love Bessie, she’s great, but she sometimes can’t say why she’s sad like I can and she just cries. Mummy says she has different levels of crying. When she reaches something Mummy calls ‘Bat S’ I know it’s better to leave the room or pretend I’m really into the Lego truck I’m building. I’m not. In fact, this Lego stuff is merely another weapon in my arsenal of annoyance. I’m not old enough yet to follow the instructions properly, so I just stick it all together randomly and then shout at Mummy and Daddy for not helping me. I don’t really care that often they’re cooking or cleaning or on their computers. I know who’s Boss and I’m going to drive that point home until it sticks. Until it’s stickier than sticky the stick insect stuck on a sticky bun. Daddy taught me how to say that. It’s funny.
But anyway I am getting off the point. My report. Mummy says her new colleagues are mainly found on her computer, which is why she sometimes tries to use it during the day when Bessie and I are playing a game. We often spot this flagrant disregard for our authority and enforce ‘The Guilt Relations Act 2017 (GRA),’ an old favourite at GGL HQ. I’m sure lots of employees are familiar with this act, but in a nutshell, it’s making employees feel super guilty for having any time to themselves inside of the 7.30 am – 8.00 pm working hours.
Enforcing the GRA immediately brings employees back into the circle of play which is really all we ask from Mummy. Well, that and feeding us. And wiping our bottoms. Oh and helping us to dress. And brushing our teeth (we don’t ask for this one but apparently, it’s compulsory at all levels). And reading stories. Maybe doing crafts. Sometimes building dens. And always getting involved with 5-minute dance parties to Bruno Mars and Michael Jackson. Come to think of it I suppose she does do a lot. But then that is her job. And Mummy and Daddy are mine and Bessie’s whole world. I told her this the other day, and she cried. She’ll cry at anything that one. Better toughen her up by leaving some Lego lying around.
So in summary Trustees, she’s doing a good job. Bessie and I don’t really understand why she would think she isn’t. I might test her on occasion, well on the hour, but it’s only to keep her on her toes. That’s my job really. Testing her and Daddy, and finding out what’s right and wrong by doing stuff and gauging their reaction. Oh, and making them laugh. Sometimes I know I’m funny, but other times, I’m funny without meaning to be. Like when I asked Daddy why he has little boobies under his winkle. Daddy laughed a lot at that one. Snot came out of his nose, which made me laugh. Daddy’s pretty awesome, I love him a lot. Even though he has winkle boobies.
I’m going to make Bessie write the next report, as I don’t have much time for stuff like this in my busy schedule of destroying everything by taking it apart. And hiding stuff in other stuff. I’m getting pretty good at these two life skills. So until my next write up, I would like to give Mummy a twenty ten, because that’s my favourite number to count to.