Two Old Fools in Spain Again by Victoria Twead Page B

her the yogurt. It was really difficult! She kept grabbing the spoon and the yogurt went everywhere. I forgot how hard it was feeding babies.”
    “Ah! That’s why she’s wearing a different sleep-suit? Well, you seem to have managed okay.”
    “Left a bit of a mess I’m afraid... Yogurt everywhere and this little one could do with another face and hand wash. Couldn’t you, Milly-Molly?” He tickled her and she squirmed, chuckling.
    “That’s okay,” I said, “you keep her amused and I’ll have a wipe round.”
    I walked over to the highchair, which was coated liberally with yogurt. Yogurty smears decorated the floor, end table and the white leather couch.
    “How did the yogurt get this far?” I asked curiously.
    “Well, that was my second little problem. She was covered in yogurt, so I put the changing-mat on the floor and managed to get her sleep-suit off and I thought I’d change her nappy at the same time, but she wouldn’t keep still. I’d forgotten how wriggly babies are, it was like a wrestling match and she thought it was hilarious. Anyway, she flips over and zooms off. I’m telling you, she’s so fast! She crawls like a demon!”
    I was listening as I wiped the surfaces with a damp cloth. “Well, no harm done. You caught her in the end.”
    “Yes, but it was quite a chase, under the table, behind the couch, behind the chairs. One big game of hide-and-seek. She was laughing and giggling the whole time, she thought it was all a huge joke.”
    Satisfied that I’d de-yogurted everything and restored the Boys’ room to its former pristine glory, I concentrated on Emilia.
    Joe sat down on the couch with Emilia on his lap. I plonked myself down beside him and took the baby’s fat little hands and sponged them off. Then I wiped her face.
    “There we are!” I said. “Good as new.”
    Emilia beamed at me, but unfortunately that wasn’t quite the end of the story.

7. Golf
    Andalucian Beef Wraps
     
    E milia gurgled and reached for the pink rabbit that Joe was jiggling in front of her. She really was an incredibly happy baby, very easy to amuse. She cooed at the rabbit, grabbed it and sucked at one ear.
    “Vicky, can you smell something?” said Joe.
    I sniffed the air. “Oh dear, I think I can...”
    “Has she filled her nappy?”
    I leaned over and sniffed Emilia at close quarters, as one does.
    “No, I don’t think so. She just smells of talc and baby lotion.”
    Joe sniffed again. “It’s in the room somewhere.”
    We both looked around at the sparkling clean floor. Nothing. I jumped up and peered under the table and behind the chairs. Nothing.
    “I can’t see anything,” I said, “and I can’t smell it over here.”
    “Now, let’s think,” said Joe. “Hmm... Now, if you were a really cunning, clever babypoop, where would you hide?”
    I went back to the couch and sniffed again. “Oh no, I think it may be...”
    “...behind the couch,” finished Joe.
    He passed Emilia to me, got up and peered round the back of the couch. It was a huge, heavy corner affair of the Chesterfield type. However, there was a gap behind it.
    “That’s where it must be,” said Joe, scratching himself. “She crawled behind there with her nappy off and she took ages to come out.”
    “I don’t fancy trying to move this couch,” I said.
    Joe scratched himself and thought for a second. “Pass me some tissues, I’m going to crawl behind.”
    He dropped on all-fours and pushed himself behind the sofa. Emilia and I watched as he forced himself in.
    “Yep, I see it.” His voice was muffled and I didn’t envy him his task. “Got it, I’m coming out.”
    At that precise moment, a key turned in the lock and the door opened. Emilia squeaked and bounced, arms outstretched toward the Boys.
    “We’re back,” said Roberto, taking Emilia and kissing her curls. “Has she been good? Was everything okay?”
    “She’s been as good as gold,” I said, but my eyes were drawn to Joe’s rump, which had just