Request from Youngest today.
After school. In Playground.
Mummee? he whispered.
What is it? I whispered back.
He whispered for a long time somewhere in the direction of my lower chin.
Can't hear, sweetie, I told him. Whisper into my ear.
Other mothers looking on fondly.
He whispered at some length into my eye.
Stop! I said. Whisper into my ear...
Smile at mothers. Bet they're thinking how sweet he looks.
Youngest finds my ear and Stage Whispers into it,
I have an itch in my bottom. Can you scratch it?
Oh. My. Word.
Smile Gaily at Mothers. Whisper Hissily into Youngest's ear...
Scratch It Yourself.
But Mummee, he insists. You can scratch better than me. You've got big fingers.
Say Briskly to Youngest, Off we go! To the field! Come Along!
He follows behind, scratching bottom in distracted sort of way. Lop-sided sort of walk, presumably to get better hold, as it were.
I can't reach. Please can you scratch it?
And so I do. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
No, you need to scratch UP MY BOTTOM, he roars, fed up with whispering.
I will not scratch up your bottom. YOU MUST SCRATCH UP YOUR OWN BOTTOM.
Realise am in Bad Light.
Not the thing to shout in Playground.
And so we come to a Compromise.
And with that he runs off to play with his friends on the field.
Honestly, they don't cover this sort of thing in the Parents Handbook.