Niece Love

Starved of BOTH Irish nieces all week after moving back to my old pad, I contacted Sisinlaw about a folding clothes horse (the RUBBISH one must accumulate in order to live alone in a draughty house) and begged her to drop over the required item along with Little Niece N, so I could hug her, put her in between two slices of bread and eat her alive with adoration.

Both duly arrived this morning, and promises of my having more room in my (empty) three bedroomed house than their two bed apartment were taken very seriously, as a bunch of Little Niece N’s toys accompanied them – the noisy ones too, I noted.  There were lots of colours, and things that you could bang, which would make beeping sounds, and animal sounds, and alleged music sounds and flashing stuff – basically Sisinlaw was culling her apartment of anything that would delay the smooth transition of a massive hangover into a dull headache.  Luckily there were books too, as Little Niece N appears to, like her dad and aunt, have a flair for the words, and I am convinced I can teach her to read by three, as my own mother kindly did for me.  So as she grows, she will come to visit her aunt, not for fun times banging multi coloured plastic toys in order to make some weird sort of battery operated fusion of music and noise, but to strict rations of approved books, and beatings if new sentences are not learned by the end of every hour.  Tough love, and plenty of it, is my motto.

After second breakfast of scrambled eggs and tea and juice, myself and Sisinlaw gossiped whilst N, ignoring ALL the toys brought over for her, proceeded to run from the front door, through the hall, to the kitchen, past the dining room where we were seated, into the living room, out into the hall again, back into the kitchen and so on, whilst making a panting noise that sounded eerily like a little dog, flapping her hands, and generally just enjoying having space to be en eejit in.  This went on for about forty minutes, and only stopped because we told her she was making us dizzy, and not because her energy levels reduced in ANY way.

Afterwards, Sisinlaw popped out and we put N to bed in the spare room, with her teddy and a blanket, and I watched Only Fools and Horses for the two hundredth time, and laughed myself silly.  Hearing noises, I ventured upstairs to make sure nobody was dead or being murdered, but my fears subsided when I realised it was N, woken up now, and singing to Ted.  I picked her up, and was informed that it was ”bounce time” meaning she gets to jump on the bed in the other spare room (bouncing strictly forbidden on my own, by children and adults alike as I am a sad old spinster who never brings men back to the house).  After literally throwing, bouncing, pulling, pushing and tickling N for about half an hour, I was fit to collapse, and nearly cried when Sisinlaw walked back in, and took over bouncing duties.  They left, and I ran up to Mammy for tea, and to go on a kettle buying excursion, and when we returned, there was Sisinlaw and N at Mammy’s house, for another visit – which was fabulous, as I then got to play football with N, then see saw (where I am the actual see saw) and chasing, which has caused early onset heart attacks.

Sisinlaw left to pick up Babybro from work, leaving N with me, Mammy and Papabear, the latter making fart noises and causing hysterical giggles from everybody.  We received a text half an hour later, from Babybro, advising us that Sisinlaw had collapsed in a heap in bed, and he would be available to receive his daughter should we wish to deposit her back at his home.

An overdose of niece love and affection, and to add to my lovely warm glow, Panties has just texted to say she has bought a giant Avoca scone for me at her yummymummyladieswholunch thing (bleurgh) and can I come over to eat it soon.  Yes I can Pants, yes I bloody can.

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