Sarah Jarman

Diary of a Threenager: The Big Day

Sarah Jarman
Diary of a Threenager: The Big Day

Back in time to the beginning of the Threenager's diary adventure (aka the beginning of the threenager book!)

 

The Big Day

 

It has finally arrived. The birthday. Tomorrow I will no longer be referred to as a toddler, I will be a fully fledged ‘big girl’ and I cannot wait. Why the hell they call us toddlers I will never know. It is so demeaning. Yes, once upon a time I toddled. Let’s face it if I had popped out and raced across the delivery room that would have freaked all the oldies out, so naturally babies have to be born as these squirming balls of poop which, everyone that has been so deluded by daily life think, are cute. Therefore, there was a small window of time where we pushed ourselves round and built up some muscles, so we could finally get up and walk. Of course, it will resemble a toddle, what do you expect? Have you seen the size of a baby’s thighs? I learned to walk well before I turned one, I am a master now, there is not a toddle in sight, but the parentals still refer to me as a toddler, ‘Buy the toddler bed sheets’, pick up some of those toddler snacks she likes.’ Humiliating.

The matriarch took me out this morning, well I say she took me out. Really, she took herself out to meet a friend for coffee and she dragged me along because she didn’t have any other choice. She bribed me to sit still with gingerbread ‘people’ (gender neutrality and all that) which was never going to work as they are loaded with sugar and of course I felt like throwing a rave five minutes into the café date, she then bribed me with the mobile phone and CBeebies so I did sit still, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t listening.

She spent half the date bragging about how we had got away lightly with the ‘terrible twos’, how S and I had been tricky pregnancies and even trickier sleepers, but she felt as though she had done her time then and we had both been angels throughout the toddler years. The friend was nodding and smiling while her own child had just peed on the floor over by the olive tree (yes, an indoor olive tree?). Mummy thought said friend was smiling because she liked her, Mummy clearly has no experience with adults, even I could see a glimmer of pure vengeance behind the fake expression plastered on her face and I was engrossed with Dr Ranj (hot). As Mother dearest had not picked up on any of this she continued to rave about how S has just slipped naturally into school life and all the teachers think she is a joy, bleurgh. Everyone normal can see that is a total act and she only does it so Mummy and Daddy buy her expensive tat in WH Smith when the report card comes in.

I have to admit I really felt sorry for this friend, not only was her kid boring as hell, but she has her as a friend. I got rather bored of the whole situation rapidly and decided then and there that it was time to celebrate my birthday. I flung off my shoes telling the whole café that they were babyish and its time I had big girl shoes. Well I have never seen Mummy react quite so quickly. She joked with her friend ‘oh maybe terrible twos slipped by but maybe we are seeing the start of the threenager’, but really the joke had no feeling behind it as Mummy was spouting it through severely clenched teeth whilst trying to pin me into the buggy. Her cheeks had turned alarmingly red. The friend, however, looked truly happy for the first time since we arrived.

Mummy swept out of the café and down the high street so fast my eyes watered, it was freezing out there. I have never seen her escape a place faster, unless you count that time when S downed an entire chocolate milkshake within 50 seconds and then projectiled all over the fancy Soho restaurant, sadly I wasn’t born yet so I suppose I didn’t ‘see’ it, but I have heard the story. I would have killed to see mum trying to hail a London taxi cab covered in brown puke in broad daylight. Ahh well. I have definitely learned something from this experience, being a good little ‘toddler’ gets you nowhere. I like the sound of this threenager she spoke of, if being a threenager gets you quick results then where do I sign up?

Once we were well clear of the café (and the so-called friend) Mummy pulled me into a shop doorway to shelter from the wind and put on her silly high-pitched voice ‘what was all that about dahhhhling, are you feeling ok? Can I get you something to make you happier?’ No woman I just didn’t want to sit there and listen to your ranting about your perfect life any longer, we get it, you had perfect kids, but you see I am one of them, so you really don’t need to go on about it, I’m well aware of how good I am.

The rest of the afternoon improved drastically, we spent the remainder of the day shopping for ME as it should be. We bought balloons and streamers and confetti. I had wanted the giant unicorn cake in the bakery, but Mummy refused that saying she wouldn’t feel like an adequate mummy unless she stayed up all night slaving over the stove to make my cake herself. Let’s be frank, the shop one will a) taste better b) be cheaper by the time she has bought all the ingredients and burned it twice and c) look a million times more like a unicorn than Mummy’s failed Pinterest attempt, but you know what, with the look on her face I really couldn’t take the cake away from her.

It’s bedtime now and downstairs is all set up for tomorrows party, I decorated the walls with sparkly crayons for the occasion, sadly mummy didn’t seem to notice my doodles, oh well, she might find them in the morning. She is downstairs working on the cake creation, so far it smells OK, and I simply cannot wait for the guests to arrive in the morning loaded up with presents ALL FOR ME!!!