Ah... What is the life of a single mother if she cannot
torment her single daughter from time to time?
While performing the drudgery of clearing out her cupboards, after
attiring Mini-Me in a pleated skirt, a ribbed polo-neck and my oldest, thickest
pair of specs, I took a picture and posted it on facebook asking if anyone knew
whom I had created. Of course it was Velma from Scoobie-Doo and the look of
annoyed dissatisfaction on Mini-Me's face served only to authenticate the
near-perfect rendition.
“Mummy! Why did you put that on facebook??” For a cheap laff,
obviously, my little cherub. I think my childhood was too austere and I am
having my playtime now, in middle age (nearly 40 if you must know). During her
10 years, poor Mini-Me has born the brunt of my regression with good-natured
alacrity. She has tolerated my rusty scissors in her luscious locks and
pretended to like the blunt bobs and unwanted fringes I have left her sporting.
Now however, I fear the wind is changing. I recently took her for her first
vaguely posh (well, paid for, anyway) haircut at Cedars of Bushey. Hmm... I
need to re-exert my influence as much as possible now, before my living “Girls
World” toy (remember? I always wanted one as a child) grows up and asserts her
authority over her own appearance. And everything else.
The recent Diamond Jubilee of her Maj provided the perfect
opportunity for my favourite brand of sad, pathetic fun. Naturally, the
merciless weather prevented our trudge to Central London to witness first hand
the pomp and ceremony. However, some patriotic and kind individuals down our
street had organised a “Jubilee Picnic” featuring a special fancy dress
competition with a prince and princess theme. That was all I read on the pink
flyer that came through our letterbox before I ran upstairs to dig out my old
wedding tiara (lucky I didn't burn it after all), pearls and anything else I
could dredge up from the bottom of my dusty costume jewellery box. The promise of cake and roast chicken and
thyme flavoured Walkers Sensations crisps was enough to draw Mini-Me out of the
house and into the street wearing my fakery and her dressing gown which has
“princess” embroidered on it. Of course she won first prize. (Let's ignore the
fact that she was the only princess to have ventured out in the rain.) This was
not the first time I had worked Jubilee magic on my unwitting child-victim.
When she was a baby I fashioned a crown out of my bangles and tissue paper for
the Queens's Golden Jubilee. What will I do in 10 year's time? She will be
twenty and I will be nearing 50. Gulp. Will they still be selling Girls Worlds?
Anyway, it will be retribution time by then. Mini-Me is
already telling me what looks good and what looks funny. Last Friday when the
bin men were out, she told me I looked like I had nothing on under my trench
coat because I was wearing shorts. I actually had to go and put leggings on to
appease her!
Yesterday, when my gorgeous 19 year old niece made me put her
bandage dress on (“For jokes, Auntie” (- Oh! I suddenly can see now how this
will all backfire on me - )) I found out
how much fun it actually is to play make-believe. I was instantly
transmogrified into “Lisa”, the oldest hag from Real Housewives of Beverley
Hills (don't look at me like that, I do also watch Newsnight, and The
Book Show...) using an old cuddly toy as Giggie, the permanently attached
chihuahua. Of course, although Mini-Me hadn't a clue who I was (as probably no
one reading this does either, but you can IMAGINE, right?) tottering around in
my sister's stilettos, and posing in front of her huge, ornate mirror, spouting
hackneyed platitudes from the show, she did enjoy hanging dangly sparkles on me
and laughing at my impression. “Mummy, you look BEAUTIFUL!” What fun we had
together; she, lavishing me with compliments and me, pretending to be a
filthy-rich, botoxed, egotist. Is this not what experts mean when they say you
should make time for imaginative play with your children?
For more Life on the Edge with Angelina, including details of
her latest life-changing gadget visit mynotesfromtheedge.blogspot.com. Angelina
runs Sing and Sign baby signing classes in Harrow, Bushey and Rickmansworth and
Sing and Sign has just won the Netmums awards for the best pre-school
classes in Harrow and in Brent! More info at www.singandsign.com.
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