Quarter

A quarter! I wasn’t around to celebrate three months of nipperness with him today as I was working, but made it back on time to ascertain he still doesn’t give a rat’s ass for birthdays.
Despite the food, wine and friends who had gathered at the table (unfortunately, food and wine only gather when friends do) he cried and whined. He simply does not give a Scheiße for friends, food or wine, and kicked up a fuss until he was changed, kicked up a fuss until he was fed, kicked up a fuss until he was brought to bed, kicked up a fuss until he was sung to, kicked up a fuss until he was talked to, kicked up a fuss until he was rocked, and kicked up such a goddamn fuss there was nothing to it but to feed him again – his only friends, food and wine – before he was too knackered to kick up a fuss again. He’s asleep still as I type. The third monthivarsary put to bed.
The nipper bid adieu to the grandparents yesterday, before they took flight out of earshot back to Ireland, cries still ringing in their ears. I doubt they’ll be back.
I should point out for the natives that I am of course exaggerating. The folks seemed very happy with the little fella who ensured their lasting affection by shamelessly firing off a series of killer smiles at them before they left. He even gurgled and churgled at them just to make sure.
Of course he farted as soon as they met, and waited until they were eating before attempting Brahms’ symphony number 4 with his arse, much to my dad’s amusement.
It ain’t easy being a nipper (as he keeps reminding us) but all things considered, he’s doing a fine job of it so far.

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