hands up to his face and stared hard at the colloidal web of pasta and cheese. ’Wir müssen expandieren!’ he pronounced solemnly.
‘Yes, darling, they are like worms, aren't they,’ said the toddler's mother.
Humpy pursed his little lips and looked at her with his discomfiting bright blue eyes. Miriam held the gaze for a moment, willing herself to suffuse her own eyes with tenderness and affection. Blobs of melted cheese fell from Humpy's hands, but he seemed unconcerned. ’Masse!’ he crowed after some seconds.
’Very messy,’ Miriam replied, hating the testiness that infected her tone. She began dabbing at the plastic tray of his high chair, smearing the blobs of cheese and coiling the strayed strands of spaghetti into edible casts.
Humpy continued staring at the toy he'd made out of his tea.
’Masse,’ he said again.
‘Put it down, Humpy. Put it in the dish – in the dish !’ Miriam felt the clutch on her control slipping.
Humpy's eyes widened still more – a typical prelude to tears. But he didn't cry, he threw the whole mess on the just-cleaned floor, and as he did so shouted, ‘Massenfertigung!’ or some such gibberish.
Miriam burst into tears. Humpy calmly licked his fingers and appeared obscurely satisfied.
When Daniel got back from work an hour later, mother and son were still not reconciled. Humpy had struggled and fought and bitten his way through the rituals of pre-bedtime. Every item of clothing that needed to be removed had had to be pulled off his resisting form; he made Miriam drag him protesting every inch of the ascent to the bathroom; and once in the bath he splashed and kicked so much that her blouse and bra were soaked through. Bathtime ended with both of them naked and steaming.
But Daniel saw none of this. He saw only his blue-eyed handsome boy, with his angelic brown curls framing his adorable, chubby face. He put his bag down by the hall table and gathered Humpy up in his arms. ‘Have you been a good boy while Daddy was at the office –’
‘You don't have an office!’ snapped Miriam, who like Humpy was in terry-towelling, but assumed in her case for reasons of necessity rather than comfort.
‘Darling, darling . . . what's the matter?’ Carrying the giggling Humpy, whose hands were entwined in his hair, Daniel advanced towards his wife.
’Darlehen, hartes Darlehen,’ gurgled Humpy, seemingly mimicking his father.
‘If you knew what a merry dance he's led me today, you wouldn't be quite so affectionate to the little bugger.’ Miriam shrank away from Daniel's kiss. She was worried that, if she softened, let down her Humpy-guard at all, she might start to cry again.
Daniel sighed. ‘It's just his age. All children go through a difficult phase at around two and a half; Humpy's no exception –’
‘That may be so. But not all children are so aggressive. Honestly, Daniel, I swear you don't get to see the half of it. It's not as if I don't give him every ounce of love that I have to give; and he flings it back in my face, along with a lot of gibberish!’ And with this Miriam did begin to cry, racking sobs which wrenched her narrow shoulders.
Daniel pulled Miriam to him and stroked her hair. Even Humpy seemed distressed by this turn of events. ’Mutter,’ he said wonderingly, ’Mutter,’ and squirmed around in his father's arms, so as to share in the family embrace.
‘See,’ said Daniel, ‘of course he loves his mother. Now you open a bottle of that nice Chablis, and I'll put young Master Humpy down for the night.’
Miriam blinked back her tears. ‘I suppose you're right. You take him up then.’ She bestowed a glancing kiss on the top of Humpy's head. Father and son disappeared up the stairs. The last thing Miriam heard before they rounded the half-landing was more of Humpy's peculiar baby talk. ’Mutter–Mutter–Muttergesellschaft’ was what it sounded like. Miriam tried hard to hear this as some expression of love towards herself. Tried hard
‘Yes, darling, they are like worms, aren't they,’ said the toddler's mother.
Humpy pursed his little lips and looked at her with his discomfiting bright blue eyes. Miriam held the gaze for a moment, willing herself to suffuse her own eyes with tenderness and affection. Blobs of melted cheese fell from Humpy's hands, but he seemed unconcerned. ’Masse!’ he crowed after some seconds.
’Very messy,’ Miriam replied, hating the testiness that infected her tone. She began dabbing at the plastic tray of his high chair, smearing the blobs of cheese and coiling the strayed strands of spaghetti into edible casts.
Humpy continued staring at the toy he'd made out of his tea.
’Masse,’ he said again.
‘Put it down, Humpy. Put it in the dish – in the dish !’ Miriam felt the clutch on her control slipping.
Humpy's eyes widened still more – a typical prelude to tears. But he didn't cry, he threw the whole mess on the just-cleaned floor, and as he did so shouted, ‘Massenfertigung!’ or some such gibberish.
Miriam burst into tears. Humpy calmly licked his fingers and appeared obscurely satisfied.
When Daniel got back from work an hour later, mother and son were still not reconciled. Humpy had struggled and fought and bitten his way through the rituals of pre-bedtime. Every item of clothing that needed to be removed had had to be pulled off his resisting form; he made Miriam drag him protesting every inch of the ascent to the bathroom; and once in the bath he splashed and kicked so much that her blouse and bra were soaked through. Bathtime ended with both of them naked and steaming.
But Daniel saw none of this. He saw only his blue-eyed handsome boy, with his angelic brown curls framing his adorable, chubby face. He put his bag down by the hall table and gathered Humpy up in his arms. ‘Have you been a good boy while Daddy was at the office –’
‘You don't have an office!’ snapped Miriam, who like Humpy was in terry-towelling, but assumed in her case for reasons of necessity rather than comfort.
‘Darling, darling . . . what's the matter?’ Carrying the giggling Humpy, whose hands were entwined in his hair, Daniel advanced towards his wife.
’Darlehen, hartes Darlehen,’ gurgled Humpy, seemingly mimicking his father.
‘If you knew what a merry dance he's led me today, you wouldn't be quite so affectionate to the little bugger.’ Miriam shrank away from Daniel's kiss. She was worried that, if she softened, let down her Humpy-guard at all, she might start to cry again.
Daniel sighed. ‘It's just his age. All children go through a difficult phase at around two and a half; Humpy's no exception –’
‘That may be so. But not all children are so aggressive. Honestly, Daniel, I swear you don't get to see the half of it. It's not as if I don't give him every ounce of love that I have to give; and he flings it back in my face, along with a lot of gibberish!’ And with this Miriam did begin to cry, racking sobs which wrenched her narrow shoulders.
Daniel pulled Miriam to him and stroked her hair. Even Humpy seemed distressed by this turn of events. ’Mutter,’ he said wonderingly, ’Mutter,’ and squirmed around in his father's arms, so as to share in the family embrace.
‘See,’ said Daniel, ‘of course he loves his mother. Now you open a bottle of that nice Chablis, and I'll put young Master Humpy down for the night.’
Miriam blinked back her tears. ‘I suppose you're right. You take him up then.’ She bestowed a glancing kiss on the top of Humpy's head. Father and son disappeared up the stairs. The last thing Miriam heard before they rounded the half-landing was more of Humpy's peculiar baby talk. ’Mutter–Mutter–Muttergesellschaft’ was what it sounded like. Miriam tried hard to hear this as some expression of love towards herself. Tried hard
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