But it’s not working

Friday, October 2 ‘09

There were certain theories which clearly were not working in the Bennet household. The “getting out the door” theory did not exist as far as Mrs. Bennet was concerned. She had tried everything in her parental power to get her offspring out of the house, into the car, back out of the car and through the school gates before the bell went. But no matter how hard she tried, there was always something – a child, a paddy (or a “ponk” as Mr. and Mrs. Bennet called it), a recycle van, a lack of parking space or a completely exhausted mother – which stopped them achieving their goal. This morning it was Spag (alias Miss Rosie Bennet) who would not co-operate. She point blankly refused to put on her shoes or coat, and instead lay prostrate on the floor and wouldn’t budge. It hadn’t helped that the older Miss Bennets had decided to play hide and seek instead of cleaning their teeth. It was only when she moved the computer chair Mrs. Bennet discovered Miss Bennet Number Two – so good was she at hiding. Instead of using spoons to eat their cereal, they had armed themselves with felt tip pens and got lost in a world of imaginative drawing. There was just no sense of urgency or the comprehension that “I must go to school.”
Mrs. Bennet had had enough. Doing live reports on radio or television was a doddle compared to getting five children out of the house. Her stress levels soared far higher. Whatever it took she would not get worked up by this charade any more. If the children weren’t ready by the time the Scooby Doo van had to leave, then they would have to come in whatever state of dress they were in. Having to go to school in pyjamas would soon teach them a lesson.
The other theory which had failed her so far was the acne cream removing Biro one. Right now the defaced baby dolls were plastered in the white stuff, so-say sun-bathing so that the sun’s rays could work with the chemicals in the cream. Only the sun had disappeared two hours ago. Spag and Bol's etchings hadn't. The dolls, looking rather pathetic and sad, were lying on the trampette. One or two of the neighbour’s cats had sauntered by to see what was going on, and realising that one of their favoured spots had been taken, walked off haughtily. It wasn’t every day you saw two miniature people undergoing cosmetic surgery in broad daylight. And it was broad daylight, or to be more accurate direct sunlight that was needed for this procedure to work. Mrs. Bennet feared she would now have to wait a year. She peered curiously at the creamed dolls. Had the marks faded slightly or was that wishful thinking? They were certainly visible and very striking on one side.
She wiped off the cream and popped the dolls back into the hospital shed.
As it was Friday, there was not a chance of trying the procedure again until next week. A whole weekend then of hoping the question: “where’s my Baby Annabell Mummy?” didn’t pop up. Mrs. Bennet decided she might have to tell the owners that unfortunately their babies were currently in special care and couldn’t be held for a while.
Clouds threatened overhead. Mrs. Bennet needed a miracle. Well two actually. A dose of divine wisdom as to how to get to school on time and a cure for removing black marks from innocent plastic babies. Incidentally if the cream did work, she intended to put some on her wrinkles and sit out in the sun all day.