Wages in double portion

Monday, November 24 08

Mrs Bennet no longer required a television for entertainment purposes. She could quite happily live without it. Mr Bennet couldn’t. A certain ball kicked by a certain team meant it still had its uses – that, and taping certain children’s programmes for certain emergency calming-down moments.
Miss Bennets Four and Five deserved glowing reviews for their Oscar-winning dramas and comedies. They obediently sat in their feeding chairs with little rose-bud mouths opening in bird-like fashion as spaghetti came their way, scooping pasta worms as Mother bird gave them her morning’s work. Armed with a spoon, they relished the freedom of attacking yoghurt pots, giving a running commentary as they did so. Then suddenly, without warning they swapped pots and carried on eating. Mrs Bennet was intrigued. This habit had become intrinsic to meal times. If she gave them each a bowl containing a medley of bananas, raisins, apples, breadsticks and cheese, they’d cheerfully tuck in, then after five minutes, push their bowl at the other and finish their sister’s meal.
If Miss Kezia Bennet wanted to really upset her twin, she would crawl off with Rosie’s reassured, well-worn and well-cuddled rabbit. She’d then poke it through the playpen bars and tilt her head as if to say: “na,na,na,na,na!” But Miss Rosie Bennet had her ammunition ready. She’d find Kezia’s soothing tool – the dummy – wave it, chew it, then run off with it, leaving Kezia pursuing her bigger and stronger sister. It made fantastic viewing and their interludes were equally as comical to listen to, such as now.
Mrs Bennet was perched on the stair’s bottom step, listening to their animated babbling. For the past hour, instead of dozing for an afternoon nap, each peered at the other through cot bars, nodding heads and waving arms as if to explain their point. Mrs Bennet knew this as she peeped through the tiny gap where the door was slightly ajar.
Feeling excluded from this intimacy and secret language, she smiled and left them to their conversation, knowing eventually they’d run out of talk and fall asleep – bottoms in the air, limbs hanging out of each cot. It was moments like these when parenting wages were bountiful for Mrs Bennet. They were indeed her double portion.