When the shoe is on the other foot

Since I had LE, I've found myself doing things I would have been appalled at in my child-free days. Yesterday, we were waiting at the bus stop with my friend and her daughter after a stint in the park. Another woman came up with a cat in a cat box. My friend wheeled her daughter over, as they have a cat, and she knows all about it. The woman seemed quite chatty and friendly, so I wheeled LE over to have a look, as you never know how long these buses are gonna take.

Before I knew it, I was pointing at the cat, saying, "Look! Cat! Miaow!" several times over, as LE colluded, "Duh! Duh!", pointing too (everything is called "Duh" to him). By this time, we couldn't even see the cat, it had retreated so far back into its box, probably thinking, "Get me away from these nutters!", while the owner was starting to look more than a little ticked off and annoyed. I kind of noticed, but couldn't seem to help myself, because when it comes to amusing a potentially fractious toddler, you'll do anything.

It reminded me of when I used to do a regular Sunday lunchtime gig at a posh London restaurant in Piccadilly. Parents would walk by with their children - I'm assuming at that time in the meal when they could no longer contain their little pumpkins - pointing at me, saying, "Look! Singer!", while I would attempt a cringeable smile, not really sure where to look and feeling ridiculous singing a heartfelt ballad to a nonplussed toddler. They always stood there just a little too long, and I'd start to get nervous and tetchy, hoping they'd move along. I get it now, though - like I said, when it comes to amusing a potentially fractious child, you'll do anything ... even if it means embarrassing the poor cat, singer, or the stranger at the bus stop.