Spag and Bol are two

Wednesday, May 13 ‘09

Mrs Bennet couldn’t quite believe Spag and Bol were now two years old. It didn’t seem that long ago, she had cradled them in her arms, clumsily trying to put two tiny heads into position and tandem feed. Now they were two little people, individuals in their own beautiful right, brightening up her life and those around them. Without them – and their three adoring siblings – she wouldn’t be the woman she was today. Modern Mrs Bennet certainly wouldn’t exist. Yes, they tested her patience and pushed her to limits, but they also rubbed edges off her and forced her to see the world with a new perspective. No, she hadn’t anticipated changing nappies for a whole decade, nor had she envisaged a further nine-month growth project, which had left more stretch marks than a twin pregnancy. But building bite-size Pemberley had been a necessary part of adapting to the increase in female Bennets.
Miss Rosie and Miss Kezia still didn’t say a lot. But there was one word, they both cried excitedly everyday and that was DORA. For some reason, they had latched on to the popular Spanish cartoon character, Dora the Explorer and Mrs Bennet knew it wouldn’t be long before certain Spanish words, like Lo hicimos! (we did it!) and vámonos (let’s go!) popped out of their mouths. Mixed with their own Spagbolese language, it would make interesting listening.
The birthday girls were currently outside in the back garden. Despite its bald patches which like Mr Bennet needed fresh turf in places, it was now a safe area to play in. The garage door, builder’s tools and discarded piping had been removed. Instead various bikes, slides and a toy car provided ample entertainment as did footballs and snails. Miss Rosie was in the driving seat of the only car. Looking on, Miss Kezia obviously wanted a go, and Mrs Bennet knew there was every chance crying would soon break out. Surprisingly though turning two, had made way for a quality she had noticed was growing between the twins: sharing. Without protest, Spag (alias Rosie) got out of the car and opened the door for Bol (alias Kezia) to get in. Mrs Bennet then watched as Spag shut Bol in and walked across the garden, picked up a long stick and proceeded to open up the pretend petrol cap and place the stick in the hole. Once the tank was full, Spa put the cap back on and off Bol went. Well all five inches, as she got stuck on a stone and yelled for her mother.
But it was fascinating viewing. She knew babies were imitators, but watching two little people acting out real life in their own unique way was mesmerizing. Two years ago, they were helpless babes, with the sole aim of demanding attention and feeding at the milk bar. Now they happily entertained themselves, content in each other’s company and greedily lapping up every learning opportunity available. Usually it involved opening cupboards or tattooing themselves in felt tip pen when no one was looking. Yet these two delightful Miss Bennets enveloped Mrs Bennet in their world, forcing her to stop and see the world through their eyes; eyes which couldn’t read the newspapers or watch the news. And really when she took time to appreciate life from their perspective, it really wasn’t bad at all.

Darcy goes grey

Friday, November 21 08

One of the “Darcys in the dirt” was notably more grey than he had been when he first started building Pemberley. Mrs Bennet didn’t like to say anything, but she did hope the Bennet building project wasn’t causing him too much stress. Incidentally, although Jane Austen’s Bennet family lived at Longbourn, the Modern Mrs Bennet chose to go straight for a bite-size Pemberley. As Miss Bennet numbers one and two’s future husbands were currently between the ages of seven and nine, their pocket money wouldn’t stretch enough to provide for their “wives” just yet. It’s why Mr and Mrs Bennet had chosen to step in. As it happened the giddy, youngest Kitty and Lydia Bennet equivalents had already found their men. If they had been boys they’d have been “wowed” by the enormous cement mixers, various diggers and grinders. Full of baby hormones, they preferred to show their dimples at the Darcys in the dirt. Mrs Bennet had given up washing the hand and kiss marks off the lounge window.
It was a strange feeling being surrounded by an assault course of bricks, scaffolding, tiles and steel poles. It was fine during the day with just herself and the twins Bennets. But at six o’clock with seven bodies, school shoes, bags, lunch boxes, pens, crayons, doll’s arms, squashed raisins, a ball pool of rice crispies and a derailed train, it wasn’t so pleasant. Two objects epitomised how the Bennet parents felt at such moments - Dora the Explorer’s dad was spreadeagled on a cushion, while a lady’s voice warbled painfully slowly from a toy mobile phone as her battery was running low.
As light was getting obscured by Darcy activity, the dark winter days felt even darker. But it was reassuring to be surrounded by men, even if they did require the occasional cuppa. However, the leading Darcy in the dirt did look worryingly grey. As she handed him a cup of coffee, Mrs Bennet realised next door’s garage roof had also changed colour.
“I’m having a bad hair day today,” remarked the Darcy, tapping his head to create a dust cloud.
“I had noticed and did wonder if you were OK,” replied Mrs Bennet. “I only wish I could shake my grey hair out like that!”