The voice of authority

It’s Saturday morning, the middle of the school holidays.  It’s early, still dark.  Fainjin appears next to me, fully dressed.  “Mum!” he says brightly, “It’s after 6 o’clock!”

“Yes, it is,” I agree, not quite so brightly, “but it’s the weekend, remember?  So we don’t get up until after seven o’clock.”

“Oh.  Sorry!” he sings, rather unapologetically.  He takes himself into the kitchen and bangs about a bit making himself breakfast.  Every so often he comes back in to check with us about something or other, waking me out of my doze each time.

A little later, Babess is awake and calling out.  Fainjin goes in to talk to her, and I hear him tell her she can’t get up until after 7 o’clock.  Little hypocrite, I think to myself fondly.  Then Babess calls, “Mum!  What day is it?”

Fainjin tells her it’s Wednesday.  All I can assume is that he’s remembered “weekend” and confused it with a day starting with W.  She ignores him and calls out louder, “Muuuum! What DAY is it?”

Fainjin is indignant that she hasn’t taken his word for it.  “It’s Wednesday!  I told you!”

The Dad and I start snickering when Babess calls out again, “MUM!”

Poor Fainjin is completely offended by this stage.  He draws on his full 17-and-a-half months of superior experience in instructing his baby sister.  His exasperated voice has us in (quiet) stitches.  “Ba-bess!  It’s Wednesday!  Trust me!  I’m like a grown-up!”


© UpsideBackwards 2012.

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