“I like black hair. I wish I had black hair.” And so The Child’s dissatisfaction with her appearance begins. And she’s not yet even five. Joy. Her hair is a nice colour though. It’s the same colour as mine, and hairdressers are always telling me what a gorgeous colour it is. But her hair is probably one of the better things to hate. Of course, she doesn’t hate her hair really. Not yet anyway. And when she’s bigger she’ll find something more problematic to fixate on. I hate my nose. And my tummy. Though maybe hate is too strong a word. Both could be improved let’s put it that way, but I’d rather leave them as they are than get surgery. Not that I disapprove of surgery completely, if it makes you happy. It’d be nice if people could be happy without resorting to that though of course.
I managed to nearly set the house on fire this morning too. The electric heater started making this dodgy sounding crackling noise, and when I turned it off it sparked and there was a fair bit of smoke. No fire though, thank god. Of course, now we’ve no electric heater, and as gas costs a fortune, we might just have to freeze to death while we get ready for school. I can’t afford to have the heating on for that long. Then again, when I get a job all the extra cash (that which doesn’t fund the childcare bill anyway) can pay for the gas. And I could try and replace it of course. It’s my parents’ heater though. I hope they aren’t too mad that we bust it. I’m sure they won’t be. They’ll probably just be relieved that there was no fire either. Not the most fun way to start your Monday morning. On the plus side the snails are still alive, so there’s some good too. And we get rid of them back to school today. Bless them. They’re strange creatures are snails.
And oh no. The Child has found the Argos catalogue. She wants just about everything for her birthday. Joy.
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