The Silence of the Teddy Bears

Dear Diary

Friday 16th, 2pm.

Well, it happened.  It was bound to, eventually;  in a class of 26 kids, it was inevitable that someday, I’d be given to the wild blonde kid to bring home. But - for a weekend??  The Gods of Teddy Bears were clearly not looking favourably on me. 

My fears started to come to fruition on the journey home;  is it so hard for a backpack to be kept on the back? Apparently, yes.  When I finally came to a stop I was upended on the ground, along with all my possessions.  Now I know that to some it might seem a bit odd for a small teddy bear to have his own adult-sized bag, filled with clothes and his cuddly friends, but that’s how I roll, ok?   So there we were, strewn across a filthy floor, when the devil-child announced that he wanted to see my bum, and stripped me naked.  I have worked LONG and HARD to get the respect of my peers, and within a matter of minutes all that respect was in tatters.  Not unlike my ripped pantaloons.

However, mustn’t grumble, must try to look on the bright side.  His mother has to fill in a diary of my activities, so she’s bound to step in and take control at some point. This is the part of the home visits I really love – never quite knowing what fun is in store for the afternoons.  I’ve been on farms, in zoos, parks, playgrounds, swimming pools, cafes, libraries;  I’ve had my photo taken on boats, horses, tractors, bikes, planes, and prams.  I reckon in fact I’m the most photographed, and stimulated stuffed bear in London.     

Having said that, she doesn’t really strike me as the most organised person I’ve ever come across.  What’s with that witch’s hair?  And the shrieking  - is it really necessary?  Although I concede that she possibly has a point alot of the time.  Those kids like to climb.  It’s as if they’re communicating telepathically – one pegs it up the side of the banisters, and while she’s shrieking and pleading and demanding obedience, the other heads for the mantelpiece.  I’ve been lying naked under the kitchen table – also manky – for a good hour now, and no one has eaten a scrap of food, or indeed sat still for more than five minutes.  Christ, it would do my head in to live here. 

Friday, 7pm.

Still under the table. Still naked.  Beasts have finally been rounded up and kitchen finally calm – albeit still filthy. Horrific shrieking and crying from the bathroom. Sounds like a cat being drowned. 

Have witnessed the most astonishing amounts of faffing about today.  Shoes on, coats on, shoes off, shoes on again, coats off then on again, pram loaded, snacks packed, snacks found and scoffed, shoes on again, pram re-loaded, bums smelt, nappies changed, shoes on again, naughty corner visits... On and on and on, eventually she just gave up and sat on the stairs with her head in her hands. Kids could have cared less, they were off up the banisters kicking their shoes in their wake. 

Friday 10pm.

On the plus side – kitchen floor finally swept.  Downside – I was swept too.  Now discarded into a plastic storage box with semi-clad grime-encrusted dolls, cars, and half-eaten (by foxes, apparently) plastic figures.  The air of toy despondency is tangible.  An action man, naked from the waist down, is eyeing me up in a worrying manner. They might be smooth down below, but those fuckers can still pack a punch.

Saturday 2pm.

Sore.  Violated.  I have quite literally had the stuffing knocked out of me.  WHATSORTOFPLACEISTHIS?? I’d better be taken out of this box soon.

Saturday 7pm.

Freedom! Momentarily.  Then into the washing machine with all my clothes and entourage.  Doesn’t she know that jumper is hand knitted??

Sunday 2pm.

The indignity.  Finally dressed, however squashed into woollen jumper which perverted Action Man now eying up.  Suspect will be bartering for my cherry later on.  Have not yet made it out of the house.  Fuck knows what she’s going to find to write about in my diary. Doesn’t she know that it’s read aloud when he gets back to nursery?

Sunday 6pm.

Salvation of some sort.  Removed from restrictive clothing and invited to partake in dinner.  Not quite sure what it says about a house that “dinner” comprises ice-cream and chocolate, but apparently it was some sort of special occasion.  The crazy witch woman was presented with flowers from the he-child and a card from the she-child.  Mother’s Day??? SHE DOES NOT DESERVE SHIT. Good ice-cream concoction however.  Pity the she-child upended me into a large bowl of it.  Both Action Man and Baby Annabell now looking at me and licking their lips.

Monday 19^th, 8am.

Dear Diary –

Well!  What an exciting weekend I’ve had.  I was so happy to be taken home by Freddie, almost as happy as he was!  He skipped home and couldn’t wait to introduce me to all his friends.  After a yummy lunch of rice, fish and broccoli (delicious!) we had some quiet time on the sofa, before heading out for a lovely walk in the park. We played on the slides and the swings, and met all Freddie’s friends. Bathtime was ALOT of fun, and then Freddie’s mummy told us a brilliant story about teddy bears and pirates and sharks, before we snuggled down to sleep.

I was very tired after our fun-packed day on Saturday!  First we went to the zoo, and then, as a special treat, we visited a farm!  In the afternoon we took a boat trip, before gobbling up our dinner in a very grown-up restaurant, where all the children were very well behaved.  Sadly, Mummy’s camera was broken so she couldn’t take any photos of me on the tractor or feeding the horses, or splashing around on the water.  We were all so tired by the end of the day that we were very happy to jump into bed and go to sleep.

On Sunday we all went to church and then fed the ducks in the park.  I didn’t know church could be such fun! We spent the afternoon at home doing arts and crafts, and Freddie helped to teach me a few words in Mandarin while he was taking his online lessons.  That was fun!  As a special treat, he and his sister made their Mummy banana splits to say thank you for being such a fabulous mother, which everyone ate after they’d had their soup and home-made bread for tea.

It’s been the most wonderful weekend and I hope I can come back again soon! 

Love from Nursery Teddy xxx

Banana Splits

Banana Splits are the biz (even if, close up, they look a bit obscene). There’s really no reason for them to be given any special status, because they’re piss-easy to make.  In fact “make” is a bit of an exaggeration - there’s no proper recipe involved, just an assembly of ingredients.  

Having said that, making chocolate sauce can put people off.  Which is ridiculous, because it’s also piss-easy. 

You need:

One banana per person / half for smaller people.

Ice-cream, preferably two or three flavours.  Otherwise stick with vanilla.

Chopped nuts.  I used ready-chopped hazelnuts, because frankly, weekends are long enough without throwing nut-chopping into the mix.  I got a bit fancy and toasted them in a hot frying pan for a couple of minutes (but then again, I had a stuffed visitor to impress).  It gives a nicer flavour, but you’re not missing out if you use them plain.

Chocolate sauce.  Forget all that nonsense about heat-proof bowls and pans of simmering water blahblahblah. This is what you do:  break up a large bar of any type of chocolate you like (I used 70%) and put in any old saucepan.  Add a decent splash of milk – about 4 tablespoons' worth.  Put over a low heat, stirring occasionally.  The milk will stop the chocolate from burning or thickening too much, and you’ll be left with – ta da! – chocolate sauce.  Leave to cool slightly before using.

Split the bananas.  Dollop as much ice-cream on them as demanded.  Ladle over the warm chocolate sauce and sprinkle nuts on top.

You can get fancy with whipped cream and fruit etc, but really:  you have bananas, ice-cream, chocolate  sauce and nuts in one glorious heavenly bowl.  Why mess with it?

Serve with loud, repeated reminders that THIS is what makes you a fantastic mother...