Glam-Nan, this is Chuckie, Chuckie, this is Glam-Nan

It was high time Glam Nan got acquainted with the new and disapproved of Chickie following her smug delivery of a seemingly reprieved baby who had behaved impeccably for his entire stay at her house. It’s annoying to say the least when you bemoan to your family that your child has been tormenting you endlessly with behaviour befitting an appearance on the “House of Horrors” and then suddenly throws the horns, cape and three pronged fork to one side, buffs his dusty halo, and spends his visit quietly plucking out the tune to Greensleeves on his harp.

It’s annoying for two reasons. Firstly, when a child is at it’s peak of best behaviour, it’s virtually impossible to imagine them in the throws of foot stomping, head rotating rage. Hence, mummy looks like a bit fat liar or, at the very least, an exaggerating whingebag. Secondly, when it comes to parenting, every person in the world believes that they, and they alone (even if they don’t have children) can handle the child or situation more adeptly than it’s mother. Hence, if baby is good at Nanna’s house, the good behaviour can be directly apportioned to said Nanna whose calm and patient manner was clearly just the approach baby needed to get back on track.

Gloaty Glam-Nan reeled off how he’d eaten all his dinner specially formulated to contain exactly the right amount of bowel movement inducing roughage, filled his nappy (as a result of specially formulated meal), slept through the night, even lying in until 7.45am without any tantrums or incident. Feeling betrayed, I feigned happiness, praising my underhand and treacherous child for being such a ‘good boy’ for Nanna.

On arrival the next day, Glam-Nan enquired as to Chickie’s spirits following his return. “He woke up at 5.45am and had a tantrum when I offered him a biscuit” I replied. “He slept in until 7.45am at our house” she said. “Yes, you mentioned that”.

As it was lawn laying day, Glam-Nan was taking Chickie out for the morning whilst Snowy and I did men’s work. As Glam-Nan pushed a chirping Chickie off down the road, she was still enjoying a self-congratulatory repartee with herself about his newly reformed character. Two hours later, and an hour earlier than scheduled, Glam-Nan could be heard frantically cooing from the front garden (she coos to attract attention, don't know why, just always has!). Snowy and I looked at each other, wondering why she was back so soon.

A distressed Glam-Nan explained how she had let Chickie out of his pushchair to let him have a little walk. An error on her part, she soon realised, when trying to wrangle a non compliant Chick back into his pushchair. An altercation that left a 5ft 1” pensioner, carrying a two stone sumo child whilst trying to push the offending pushchair. His second tantrum came when he wanted to push all the buttons in the lift. His third when she bundled him back into the pushchair and he wanted to do the harness up himself. His fourth, when she placed him in the highchair in the café. Then he went ballistic because he wanted to do that harness up too, writhing and screaming, “Mummy, Mummy” over and over.

Glam-Nan didn’t know which was worse, the disapproving glares of the other café customers as Chickie livened up their plans for a relaxing morning coffee or the disapproving glares of the other café customers who thought that, at 63, “Mummy” wasn't far off wearing nappies herself. Embarrassed by Chickie’s now uncontrollable sobbing and the curious glances, Glam-Nan decided no extra large cappuccino with extra chocolate sprinkles was worth it and collected her things, grateful for the emergency chocolate flake that the kind waitress shoved in Chickie’s mouth on exit, silencing him instantly.

“Oh no, that sounds awful” I sympathised, finding it hard to conceal my thorough enjoyment of her story, the smug Glam-Nan of earlier replaced by a dishevelled heap, collapsed on the sofa hugging a hot cup of tea for comfort.

I was also thoroughly amused today by Accountant’s mortification when Chickie repeatedly called him “Mummy” at the park in front of a real Mummy.

“I’m Daddy, Chickie, D. A. D. D. Y.!” Accountant responded, glancing up uncomfortably at the smirking woman pushing the little girl on the swing next to him.

“Mummy” said Chickie.