Little girls bond over my bloody accident
There was lots of drama in the house this week - but whenever is there not drama in our house? Firstly, I had agreed to mind my friend's five-year-old for a couple of days while she went on holidays.
This offer was made under the influence of alcohol and really shouldn't have been deemed valid but she kept me to it. It wouldn't have been too bad except for the fact the child is Spanish and my Spanish amounts to little more than ordering 'uno perro caliente. por fervor.'
So in the interests of communication, I asked the child to teach me some Spanish. I can now count to ten and I also know how to say 'I'm beautiful, clever and drunk', which I'm sure will come in useful during our next trip to Spain. I stilll don't know how to ask her what she wants for her dinner though. Learning how to say 'I'm beautiful, clever and drunk' seemed far more important!
Unfortunately, the seven-year-old decided she was allergic to our little Spanish visitor and wouldn't have a bar of her. Not used to having to vie for my attention, the green-eyed monster was very much in evidence and she spent the whole time throwing our little senorita dirty looks.
'When is she going home?' she asked rather rudely. 'Not for another couple of days. Her mammy and daddy are gone on holidays,' I explained. 'Could they not take her with them?' inquired the little rip.
No amount of cajoling, bribing or threatening could bring her round, so in the end I decided to ignore her shenanigans and warned her we had to be nice to any guests who visited our house. She reminded me I wasn't nice when certain family members arrived one night just as I was about to watch X Factor. 'That's different. It was X Factor,' I retorted.
In the end, the two girls finally bonded over a terrible accident involving me slicing my hand up with a shard of glass. As blood gushed (and I swear I'm not exaggerating) from the wound all over the place, the girls watched in fascination as I tried to not scream like a sissy.
Telling them to stay put, I ran across the road to my friend (who's a nurse), leaving a trail of blood in my wake. She fixed me up whilst her other half went over and got the kids before cleaning up what looked like the scene from a massacre.
'Now there's a nice hot cup of sweet tea for the shock,' says my friend after she bandaged me up. 'Have you nothing stronger?' I muttered. 'Oh no, that wouldn't be a good idea,' she said. How am I friends with such a rock of sense?
Meanwhile I looked around and the girls were happily playing away together in the corner. 'I'll be the doctor and you be the nurse,' my one says. 'Hookay,' says the little senorita. They then begin re-enacting my near miss using a Barbie doll as me. 'Aaaaaaaaaaah! Oh My God! Help me, I'm bleeding!' screams the seven-year-old, with the senorita joining in enthusiastically.
'I did NOT scream like that!' I exclaimed defensively. The two girls looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Relations were finally amicable. If only I could have had a brandy!