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A new and mysterious beast has moved into FTC. It is about 2 foot tall, has lots of squishy bits and causes my son to walk round in a constant state of confusion.

It looks exactly like my baby daughter, except now with added cowbag.

I was warned about little girls and their attempts to pull on the heartstrings from an early age. I refused to believe it: No, I thought, these women are mistaken, my little cherub won’t try such antics, she’s too little and squishy and like her brother will just be interested in dirt and hitting stuff.

Fast forward 10 months to dinner last night with ice cream for dessert.

Esme loves ice cream a LOT. Right now I have no problem with sharing a scoop or two with her after a meal. If nothing else it helps sooth her aching teething gums. The problem with my daughter though is that, like her mother, she doesn’t just love things, she LOVESTHISMORETHANANYTHINGEVER!!

Also in common with her mother, my daughter is a dreadful liar and her face is a very thin mask for her emotions.

So last night the Duchess of Arlesey had finished her scoop of ice cream, and we were all trying to muster the energy to move the party to the shower when Keith and I were interrupted by a curious noise. It sounded a little bit like crying, only not quite.

We both looked towards the source of the noise, to see our daughter looking back at us.

Her eyes moved deliberately between her father and me, her mouth formed into a perfect Ooo and emanating the worst attempt at crying you have ever heard.
“Ehhhhhh-he-he ….. ehhhh-he-he-he …”
We looked at each other, mouths twitching, and then back to our little girl who clearly felt we were selling her short on sympathy.

Brandishing her empty spoon she tried again
“Ehhhhhh-he-he ….. ehhhh-he-he-he … EHHHHHHHH-HE-HE-HE”
Her eyes moving insistently between us.
“She’s pretending to be upset isn’t she?”

“I think she is, what’s wrong with her eyes?
Esme, clearly underwhelmed at the response she was getting, had decided to step the act up a notch and had started furiously blinking.
“She’s trying to force tears out isn’t she?”
Alfie, completely bewildered by what is happening, tapped Emmie on the shoulder saying “’’iya bebe!!”

Emmie’s head whipped round and she gurgled lovingly at her brother.

That’s was about as much as Keith and I could take and we dissolved into hysterics just in time for Emmie to realise her obvious mistake and begin again with the fake crying.

I believe, dear little Emmie, that is known as being hoist by your own petard.

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