Mini Shopaholic
Page 18
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I can already feel myself wincing with trepidation. What if she says yes? What if my best friend thinks Minnie’s a monster? I’ll be totally mortified.
‘No!’ says Suze at once. ‘Of course Minnie’s not spoiled! She’s lovely. She’s just a bit … feisty. But that’s good! No children are perfect.’
‘Yours are,’ I say morosely. ‘Nothing ever goes wrong with them.’
‘Oh my God! Are you kidding?’ Suze sits upright and discards the house details altogether. ‘We’re having such problems with Ernie. His teacher keeps calling us in. He’s hopeless at everything except German, and they don’t even teach German.’
‘Oh, Suze,’ I say sympathetically.
I don’t need to ask why Ernie speaks German so well. Tarquin thinks Wagner is the only music worth listening to and he plays it to all his children, every night. Don’t get me wrong, Ernie is my godson and I love him to bits. But last time I visited he told me the whole story of something called the Something-singers and it went on for hours and I nearly seized up with boredom.
‘I’ve got to go and see the headmistress,’ Suze continues, looking upset. ‘What am I going to do if she asks him to leave?’
Forgetting all about my own problems, I put an arm round her shoulders and squeeze, feeling incensed. How dare anyone upset Suze? And who are these morons, anyway? I’ve seen Ernie’s school when I’ve gone with Suze to pick him up. It’s very snooty with lilac blazers and costs a million pounds a term or something, and they don’t even include lunches. They’re probably too busy counting the fees to appreciate real talent.
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ I say robustly. ‘And if they don’t want Ernie, then it’s obviously a rubbish school.’
If I ever see that headmistress, I’ll give her my opinion, very pointedly. I’m Ernie’s godmother, after all. In fact, maybe I should come along to the meeting at the school and express my views. I’m about to suggest this to Suze when she slaps her hand on the bed.
‘I know, Bex! I’ve got it. You should get a nanny.’
‘A nanny?’ I stare at her.
‘Who looks after Minnie when you’re at work? Still your mum?’
I nod. Since my maternity leave ended I’ve worked two and a half days a week at The Look, where I’m a personal shopper. While I’m there Mum looks after Minnie, which is brilliant because I can just leave her in the kitchen, having her breakfast, and she hardly even notices when I go.
‘Does your mum take her to playgroup?’
I make a face. ‘Not really.’
Mum’s not into playgroups. She went to Tick Tock once and had a disagreement with a fellow grandmother about who’s the best Miss Marple on TV, and never went back.
‘So what do they do?’
‘Well, it varies …’ I say vaguely. ‘They do lots of educational stuff …’
This is a slight fib. As far as I can tell the programme never varies. They go shopping and have tea at the Debenhams café and then come home and watch Disney videos.
God, maybe Suze is right. Maybe Minnie needs more routine. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.
‘A nanny will knock her into shape,’ says Suze confidently. ‘Plus she’ll organize her meals and washing and everything, and Luke will see how smooth everything can be. And he’ll change his mind instantly. Trust me.’
I knew Suze would have the answer. This is the solution. A nanny!
I have an image of a cross between Mary Poppins and Mrs Doubtfire, all cosy with an apron and a spoonful of sugar and lots of wise, homespun words. The whole place will be calm and smell of baking bread. Minnie will become an angel child who sits quietly making constructive Play-Doh in a pinafore, and Luke will instantly drag me off to bed and ravish me.
I mean, it would be worth it just for the ravishing.
‘Everyone’s using Ultimate Nannies at the moment. They’re the latest thing.’ Suze has already opened up my laptop and found the website. ‘Have a look. I’ll pop down and check on the children.’
I take the laptop from her and find myself looking at a website called Ultimate Nannies: raising well-balanced, accomplished children who will be the successes of tomorrow.
My jaw sags slightly as I scroll down. Bloody hell. These nannies don’t look anything like Mrs Doubtfire. They look like Elle McPherson. They’ve all got perfect teeth and perfect abs and intelligent-looking smiles.
Our modern, trained nannies are loving, trustworthy and educated. They will take full control of your child’s routine and cook a balanced menu. They will stimulate your child’s development, physically, emotionally and intellectually. Ultimate Nannies are highly qualified in child nutrition, safety, cultural enrichment and creative play. Many are fluent in French/Mandarin and/or offer instruction in music, Kumon maths, martial arts or ballet.
‘No!’ says Suze at once. ‘Of course Minnie’s not spoiled! She’s lovely. She’s just a bit … feisty. But that’s good! No children are perfect.’
‘Yours are,’ I say morosely. ‘Nothing ever goes wrong with them.’
‘Oh my God! Are you kidding?’ Suze sits upright and discards the house details altogether. ‘We’re having such problems with Ernie. His teacher keeps calling us in. He’s hopeless at everything except German, and they don’t even teach German.’
‘Oh, Suze,’ I say sympathetically.
I don’t need to ask why Ernie speaks German so well. Tarquin thinks Wagner is the only music worth listening to and he plays it to all his children, every night. Don’t get me wrong, Ernie is my godson and I love him to bits. But last time I visited he told me the whole story of something called the Something-singers and it went on for hours and I nearly seized up with boredom.
‘I’ve got to go and see the headmistress,’ Suze continues, looking upset. ‘What am I going to do if she asks him to leave?’
Forgetting all about my own problems, I put an arm round her shoulders and squeeze, feeling incensed. How dare anyone upset Suze? And who are these morons, anyway? I’ve seen Ernie’s school when I’ve gone with Suze to pick him up. It’s very snooty with lilac blazers and costs a million pounds a term or something, and they don’t even include lunches. They’re probably too busy counting the fees to appreciate real talent.
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ I say robustly. ‘And if they don’t want Ernie, then it’s obviously a rubbish school.’
If I ever see that headmistress, I’ll give her my opinion, very pointedly. I’m Ernie’s godmother, after all. In fact, maybe I should come along to the meeting at the school and express my views. I’m about to suggest this to Suze when she slaps her hand on the bed.
‘I know, Bex! I’ve got it. You should get a nanny.’
‘A nanny?’ I stare at her.
‘Who looks after Minnie when you’re at work? Still your mum?’
I nod. Since my maternity leave ended I’ve worked two and a half days a week at The Look, where I’m a personal shopper. While I’m there Mum looks after Minnie, which is brilliant because I can just leave her in the kitchen, having her breakfast, and she hardly even notices when I go.
‘Does your mum take her to playgroup?’
I make a face. ‘Not really.’
Mum’s not into playgroups. She went to Tick Tock once and had a disagreement with a fellow grandmother about who’s the best Miss Marple on TV, and never went back.
‘So what do they do?’
‘Well, it varies …’ I say vaguely. ‘They do lots of educational stuff …’
This is a slight fib. As far as I can tell the programme never varies. They go shopping and have tea at the Debenhams café and then come home and watch Disney videos.
God, maybe Suze is right. Maybe Minnie needs more routine. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.
‘A nanny will knock her into shape,’ says Suze confidently. ‘Plus she’ll organize her meals and washing and everything, and Luke will see how smooth everything can be. And he’ll change his mind instantly. Trust me.’
I knew Suze would have the answer. This is the solution. A nanny!
I have an image of a cross between Mary Poppins and Mrs Doubtfire, all cosy with an apron and a spoonful of sugar and lots of wise, homespun words. The whole place will be calm and smell of baking bread. Minnie will become an angel child who sits quietly making constructive Play-Doh in a pinafore, and Luke will instantly drag me off to bed and ravish me.
I mean, it would be worth it just for the ravishing.
‘Everyone’s using Ultimate Nannies at the moment. They’re the latest thing.’ Suze has already opened up my laptop and found the website. ‘Have a look. I’ll pop down and check on the children.’
I take the laptop from her and find myself looking at a website called Ultimate Nannies: raising well-balanced, accomplished children who will be the successes of tomorrow.
My jaw sags slightly as I scroll down. Bloody hell. These nannies don’t look anything like Mrs Doubtfire. They look like Elle McPherson. They’ve all got perfect teeth and perfect abs and intelligent-looking smiles.
Our modern, trained nannies are loving, trustworthy and educated. They will take full control of your child’s routine and cook a balanced menu. They will stimulate your child’s development, physically, emotionally and intellectually. Ultimate Nannies are highly qualified in child nutrition, safety, cultural enrichment and creative play. Many are fluent in French/Mandarin and/or offer instruction in music, Kumon maths, martial arts or ballet.
