The rasping, abrasive noise of coffee beans grinding in the machine sets my teeth on edge. I yawn and stretch, glad to have the kitchen to myself, and begin inspecting my shoulders. There is nothing worse than arriving at work and realising half way through the day that what I thought were clean clothes actually have toothpaste, snot and/or dribble on the right shoulder – Tadpole’s favourite nestling spot. I dab at the offending white marks with a moistened tea towel and then bend to examine my trouser legs and wipe off some breakfast milk which Tadpole has deposited at mid-thigh level.
After a quick application of Mac foundation in the ladies room, I’m just about ready to enter the world of grown ups again.
Unfortunately I have an French comptines playing in a continuous loop in my head, as Tadpole was on energetic form, complete with dancing and chanting this morning.
Along with her perpetual favourites, ‘Blaa blaa Black Sheep and ‘La capucine’ (if anyone can explain to me the meaning of the non-French exclamation of “YOU!!!” at the end of this rhyme, I would be grateful), she was singing the following little ditty (caps show her emphasis):
Les petits poissons DANS L’EAU
nagent, nagent, NAGENT, nagent, NAGENT
les petits poissions DANS L’EAU
nagent aussi bien QUE LES GROS
Little fish swim just as well as big fish. Mmm. Something tells me this verse was written by a man, attempting to convince himself/the world that size doesn’t matter.