Post by Callie Black on Jan 20, 2007 13:09:06 GMT -5
“Mummy!” squealed Lisa, rushing down the hall towards her.
Callie dropped her bags and grabbed Lisa around the waist, hugging her tightly. She nuzzled into Lisa’s dark mop of curls, inhaling deeply. She felt a sudden surge of affection for the little girl clinging to her neck. Lisa smelt like strawberries, and she loved them too. Lisa even had a little Strawberry Shortcake doll upstairs in her room, though Lisa was hardly a dolly person. Callie was proud to say that her daughter is just as much of a tom-boy as she was.
“Hey, Lisa,” she grinned. “What’s that on your nose?”
Lisa smiled widely, poking her nose with her finger. “Whiskers.”
“Why have you got whiskers?”
“Because I’m a cat!” she cried, meowing appropriately. “Me and Smoggy are always out in the garden, chasing mice and drinking milk! We like to crawl in the bush- and- and- ”
“Wear out Granny,” sighed my mother, coming out of the kitchen. “She keeps getting me to paint on those daft whiskers and now she wants me to make her a cat costume!”
Lisa scampered down the hall, squealing excitedly. “I want claws! I want claws!”
“You spoil her too much,” sighed Harry, coming in through the front door and locking it behind him. “Evening, Rebecca,” he smiled at her.
“Harry,” she tutted. “Tough day? You looked exhausted dear, would you like some coffee?”
He smiled. “Thanks, Rebecca. I’d appreciate that.”
“Daddy!” cried Lisa, throwing herself at him.
“Wow!” he cried, catching her and tossing her into the air. “There goes Lisa, the flying super-cat! See her spin through the air, beating up those baddies!”
Lisa giggled delightedly, clapping her chubby hands. “Die! Die! Die!”
Callie frowned. “Mum, do most three year olds- ?”
“Have an ambition to grow up and become a cat? Have a morbid fascination with killing cartoon characters? Torture poor old Smoggy until I’m forced to take pity and let him outside? Yes, of course. Why you ask?”
Callie laughed. “Tired?”
“As ever,” grinned Mum. “But it’s my job.”
Callie turned around and went into the kitchen, taking out pots and pans. “How’s Dad?”
Mum sighed. “His arthritis is playing him up again. He can’t walk very well, and I don’t know what to do about those stairs. They’re far too steep, even for me to handle.”
“Me and Harry could come round and help move the beds.”
“No, no, you won’t. George is being so awkward. He insists that he’s absolutely fine and needs no special treatment. He’s always been like that about disabilities.”
Callie sighed, taking some mincemeat out of the fridge. “I don’t get it. He’s so stubborn.”
“Like you,” said Mum pointedly.
“Yeah, yeah… what did the doctor say?”
“Just make sure he keeps taking his medicine. What a load of bollocks.”
“Mum!” Callie cried, turning to her. “I’m a doctor! I wish you wouldn’t make those jibes about my chosen profession!”
“They’ve got no idea!” cried Mum angrily. “They don’t know what it’s like to be dealing with all those problems. And your brother’s too? Ay!”
“Jeremy?” said Callie suddenly, her heart pounding. What now?
“Oh, don’t you worry,” said Mum, waving her hands. “He’s just been playing up the nurses again, that’s all.”
“I don’t like where he lives,” said Callie. “Why can’t he live with you?” She stopped. “Okay, stupid question.”
“Very,” agreed her mother. “What are you doing? It’s brown! Add the tomato purée!”
“Yes, I know how to cook, thank you,” growled Callie.
“Grumpy, grumpy! You still act like a teenager at the best of times!”
“Again, thank you, Mum for looking after Lisa. I really appreciate it. Now, please go.”
Her mother laughed. “You’re right, George will be hungry. Heaven forbid he could open the fridge!”
Callie laughed. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing. Dad’s a terrible cook anyway.”
Mum smiled. “Goodbye, Callie.”
“Bye, Mum,” she said, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.
Lisa appeared with Harry, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. “Is Granny staying for tea?” she asked eagerly.
“Oh, no,” sighed Mum. “I can’t, my little strawberry. Grandpa is having a bit of a hard time at the moment. I have to go and see him.
“Oh, no!” Lisa cried, looking heart-broken.
“Oh, yes!” laughed Mum. “Goodbye, Harry.”
He nodded.
She gave us all one last wave, then let herself out of the house. The second she was gone, Lisa began moaning.
“I don’t wait chilli concarne,” she said resentfully.
“Tough,” Callie sighed, starting to boil up the rice. “You have to eat properly. It can’t be McDonald’s and Burger King all the time.”
“McDonald’s!” cried Lisa, folding her arms and pouting. “I shan’t eat Mummy’s food. I want McDonald’s!”
“You can’t,” Callie groaned.
“I WANT IT!” shouted Lisa, tears of anger beginning to gather at the corner of her eyes. “I WANT IT NOW! I WON’T EAT MUMMY’S FOOD! SHAN’T!”
Uh oh. This was turning into a major tantrum. Thank god for Harry.
“Lisa!” he cried, suddenly crouching beside her. “You don’t want McDonald’s.”
“I do!” she snivelled.
“No!” he laughed. “Don’t you know what they make the burgers with?”
She shook her head tearfully.
“Cat’s poo.”
Her mouth dropped. “Like when Smoggy does a poo?”
“Exactly!” cried Harry. “Smoggy buries his poo, just like all the other cats. But do you know what McDonald’s do?”
Lisa shook her head, spellbound.
“They dig it up, mash it all together, cook it and call it a burger!”
Lisa gulped. “I’ve been eating cat poo?”
“Exactly!” cried Harry. “Isn’t it horrible? Isn’t it yucky?”
“I don’t think I want McDonald’s anymore,” Lisa moaned softly.
Callie laughed. “Then I guess you’ll just have to eat this! I guarantee its cat poo free!”
“Yes, Mummy,” nodded Lisa, curls bobbing.
Harry grinned. “See if you can find Smoggy.”
Lisa’s face lit up. “Can I tell him about McDonald’s?”
“Yes,” smiled Callie. “But you have to find him first. See if he’s hiding under your bed, or if he’s lying on the rug in the lounge.”
Laughing excitedly, Lisa ran off down the hall. “SMOOOOGGYYYY!!! I’M COMING TO FIND YOU!!!”
“Poor cat,” said Callie, turning back to her chilli.
Harry sighed, putting his hands around her waist and looking over her shoulder. “Smells good.”
“You’re just a sucker for hot foods.”
“You should make more home meals.”
“I don’t see you picking up a few pots and pans.”
“Now, Cal,” he laughed. “You know I can’t cook.”
She grinned. “Remember when we were still dating, and you tried to make fish and chips?”
He winced. “Do I have to?”
“Some date that was,” she continued, ignoring him. “I spent the night at your place throwing up.”
“And stinking up the apartment.”
“Watch it,” she said, elbowing him in the ribs.
He grinned weakly, rubbing his hands slowly and rhythmatically up and down her back and arms. “That hurt.”
“That was gentle.”
“I feel lucky.”
She turned, moving ever so slightly, so he was leaning against her. “You are lucky. I’m lucky. We’ve got each other, a supportive family and a beautiful little girl, not to mention good jobs and a grumpy cat. What more could we ask for?”
“Oh, I don’t know… a yacht perhaps…”
She laughed and began kissing him gently. He pulled her closer and kissed her back, as she ran her hands through his hair, his across her back.
It was a while before they realised the dinner was burning.
Callie dropped her bags and grabbed Lisa around the waist, hugging her tightly. She nuzzled into Lisa’s dark mop of curls, inhaling deeply. She felt a sudden surge of affection for the little girl clinging to her neck. Lisa smelt like strawberries, and she loved them too. Lisa even had a little Strawberry Shortcake doll upstairs in her room, though Lisa was hardly a dolly person. Callie was proud to say that her daughter is just as much of a tom-boy as she was.
“Hey, Lisa,” she grinned. “What’s that on your nose?”
Lisa smiled widely, poking her nose with her finger. “Whiskers.”
“Why have you got whiskers?”
“Because I’m a cat!” she cried, meowing appropriately. “Me and Smoggy are always out in the garden, chasing mice and drinking milk! We like to crawl in the bush- and- and- ”
“Wear out Granny,” sighed my mother, coming out of the kitchen. “She keeps getting me to paint on those daft whiskers and now she wants me to make her a cat costume!”
Lisa scampered down the hall, squealing excitedly. “I want claws! I want claws!”
“You spoil her too much,” sighed Harry, coming in through the front door and locking it behind him. “Evening, Rebecca,” he smiled at her.
“Harry,” she tutted. “Tough day? You looked exhausted dear, would you like some coffee?”
He smiled. “Thanks, Rebecca. I’d appreciate that.”
“Daddy!” cried Lisa, throwing herself at him.
“Wow!” he cried, catching her and tossing her into the air. “There goes Lisa, the flying super-cat! See her spin through the air, beating up those baddies!”
Lisa giggled delightedly, clapping her chubby hands. “Die! Die! Die!”
Callie frowned. “Mum, do most three year olds- ?”
“Have an ambition to grow up and become a cat? Have a morbid fascination with killing cartoon characters? Torture poor old Smoggy until I’m forced to take pity and let him outside? Yes, of course. Why you ask?”
Callie laughed. “Tired?”
“As ever,” grinned Mum. “But it’s my job.”
Callie turned around and went into the kitchen, taking out pots and pans. “How’s Dad?”
Mum sighed. “His arthritis is playing him up again. He can’t walk very well, and I don’t know what to do about those stairs. They’re far too steep, even for me to handle.”
“Me and Harry could come round and help move the beds.”
“No, no, you won’t. George is being so awkward. He insists that he’s absolutely fine and needs no special treatment. He’s always been like that about disabilities.”
Callie sighed, taking some mincemeat out of the fridge. “I don’t get it. He’s so stubborn.”
“Like you,” said Mum pointedly.
“Yeah, yeah… what did the doctor say?”
“Just make sure he keeps taking his medicine. What a load of bollocks.”
“Mum!” Callie cried, turning to her. “I’m a doctor! I wish you wouldn’t make those jibes about my chosen profession!”
“They’ve got no idea!” cried Mum angrily. “They don’t know what it’s like to be dealing with all those problems. And your brother’s too? Ay!”
“Jeremy?” said Callie suddenly, her heart pounding. What now?
“Oh, don’t you worry,” said Mum, waving her hands. “He’s just been playing up the nurses again, that’s all.”
“I don’t like where he lives,” said Callie. “Why can’t he live with you?” She stopped. “Okay, stupid question.”
“Very,” agreed her mother. “What are you doing? It’s brown! Add the tomato purée!”
“Yes, I know how to cook, thank you,” growled Callie.
“Grumpy, grumpy! You still act like a teenager at the best of times!”
“Again, thank you, Mum for looking after Lisa. I really appreciate it. Now, please go.”
Her mother laughed. “You’re right, George will be hungry. Heaven forbid he could open the fridge!”
Callie laughed. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing. Dad’s a terrible cook anyway.”
Mum smiled. “Goodbye, Callie.”
“Bye, Mum,” she said, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.
Lisa appeared with Harry, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. “Is Granny staying for tea?” she asked eagerly.
“Oh, no,” sighed Mum. “I can’t, my little strawberry. Grandpa is having a bit of a hard time at the moment. I have to go and see him.
“Oh, no!” Lisa cried, looking heart-broken.
“Oh, yes!” laughed Mum. “Goodbye, Harry.”
He nodded.
She gave us all one last wave, then let herself out of the house. The second she was gone, Lisa began moaning.
“I don’t wait chilli concarne,” she said resentfully.
“Tough,” Callie sighed, starting to boil up the rice. “You have to eat properly. It can’t be McDonald’s and Burger King all the time.”
“McDonald’s!” cried Lisa, folding her arms and pouting. “I shan’t eat Mummy’s food. I want McDonald’s!”
“You can’t,” Callie groaned.
“I WANT IT!” shouted Lisa, tears of anger beginning to gather at the corner of her eyes. “I WANT IT NOW! I WON’T EAT MUMMY’S FOOD! SHAN’T!”
Uh oh. This was turning into a major tantrum. Thank god for Harry.
“Lisa!” he cried, suddenly crouching beside her. “You don’t want McDonald’s.”
“I do!” she snivelled.
“No!” he laughed. “Don’t you know what they make the burgers with?”
She shook her head tearfully.
“Cat’s poo.”
Her mouth dropped. “Like when Smoggy does a poo?”
“Exactly!” cried Harry. “Smoggy buries his poo, just like all the other cats. But do you know what McDonald’s do?”
Lisa shook her head, spellbound.
“They dig it up, mash it all together, cook it and call it a burger!”
Lisa gulped. “I’ve been eating cat poo?”
“Exactly!” cried Harry. “Isn’t it horrible? Isn’t it yucky?”
“I don’t think I want McDonald’s anymore,” Lisa moaned softly.
Callie laughed. “Then I guess you’ll just have to eat this! I guarantee its cat poo free!”
“Yes, Mummy,” nodded Lisa, curls bobbing.
Harry grinned. “See if you can find Smoggy.”
Lisa’s face lit up. “Can I tell him about McDonald’s?”
“Yes,” smiled Callie. “But you have to find him first. See if he’s hiding under your bed, or if he’s lying on the rug in the lounge.”
Laughing excitedly, Lisa ran off down the hall. “SMOOOOGGYYYY!!! I’M COMING TO FIND YOU!!!”
“Poor cat,” said Callie, turning back to her chilli.
Harry sighed, putting his hands around her waist and looking over her shoulder. “Smells good.”
“You’re just a sucker for hot foods.”
“You should make more home meals.”
“I don’t see you picking up a few pots and pans.”
“Now, Cal,” he laughed. “You know I can’t cook.”
She grinned. “Remember when we were still dating, and you tried to make fish and chips?”
He winced. “Do I have to?”
“Some date that was,” she continued, ignoring him. “I spent the night at your place throwing up.”
“And stinking up the apartment.”
“Watch it,” she said, elbowing him in the ribs.
He grinned weakly, rubbing his hands slowly and rhythmatically up and down her back and arms. “That hurt.”
“That was gentle.”
“I feel lucky.”
She turned, moving ever so slightly, so he was leaning against her. “You are lucky. I’m lucky. We’ve got each other, a supportive family and a beautiful little girl, not to mention good jobs and a grumpy cat. What more could we ask for?”
“Oh, I don’t know… a yacht perhaps…”
She laughed and began kissing him gently. He pulled her closer and kissed her back, as she ran her hands through his hair, his across her back.
It was a while before they realised the dinner was burning.