Knocked out by a Weeble

Saturday, September 6 08

"You can't breast feed a baby when she's whacking you with a Weeble!" declared a rather bruised Mrs Bennet, who'd come to the conclusion that whilst a Weeble wobbles and won't fall down, it did half hurt when it was being used as a weapon. But Miss Kezia Bennet wasn't letting go of her weighted toy or her mother's nipple. The cow mooed in protest, the calf mooed in jest. The cow didn't find the scenario as amusing as the calf and thought it was probably time to close the milk bar for good, but couldn't quite shut the door. Ironically the Weeble was in the dairy business himself. He was a modern Weeble, dressed as an ice-cream seller.
"Perhaps he's looking for ingredients. Unfortunately he's two years too late," thought Mrs Bennet. In the days when the Bennet chest freezer was full, hidden under a bag of frozen blackberries, were 10 small bottles of breast milk, which Miss Megan Bennet had never got round to drinking. She was two years old when Mrs Bennet discovered the supply. The Twin Bennets didn't have the luxury of a frozen creamery. Tandem feeding meant there wasn't any surplus. And as Miss Kezia Bennet now had the milk supply to herself, Mrs Bennet had no inclination to be plugged into a suction pump, which left two of her most sensitive body parts looking like whipped cream peaks.
Mrs Bennet worked it out that she had been consistently producing babies and milk for nine years. Nine years! Was she mad?
As the Weeble hit her funny bone, she concluded that yes she probably was. But when it came to looking after five little Bennets and an outnumbered male, a touch of madness almost certainly helped!