Terrible two’s

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Name: Craig Arthur Tennenbaum

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: Sandy

Favourite food: Strawberry yogurt

Siblings names/ages: Felicia Gertude Tennenbaum age 6

 

 

Here I am stuck in my crib as usual. I can hear them downstairs, trying to be quiet so they don’t wake the baby. Do they think I’m stupid? Sometimes I think they get mixed up with young and dumb. Its not the same thing. I wish I could say what’s going n in my head so I could make them understand. Unfortunately my body, well my mouth and tongue and the other parts that contribute to speech, throat and larynx and vocal chords I guess, they’re not fully developed yet. When they are I am gonna give them the shock of their lives. They have no idea what I am capable of. Maybe though and this something that keeps me awake at night, not the crying for Mummy type of awake but the oh my god which option shall I choose kind of lying awake. I wonder about letting on, maybe if I keep my cleverness to myself for now at least I will be able to take advantage. They’ll never suspect an innocent little two or even three or four-year old, would they. I could gather some decent savings for start. I know where Daddy keeps his wallet and I’ve seen the stash of bills he throws down several nights a week. God knows where he gets it from, can’t be legal I’m sure, why on earth would he need to have all that cash. Its something dodgy and that’s both unsettling and useful. Its unsettling as it’s a poor environment to grow up in, morally and ethically of course but also it very insecure. Maybe he’ll get found out and arrested for Christ’s sake! However, it does mean he’s likely to be pretty lax about money and wont notice a few £10’s going missing from time to time. By the time I’m 18 I want to have amassed enough to get the hell out of here and get a place of my own. I may be a  baby but I know from the time I’ve spent here, and two years is a long time particularly at my age, it’s a goddamned lifetime! Two years with these bozos is enough to know that as soon as possible I will be out of here. Obviously I don’t have a clue what I’ll do for money or work, something exciting and magnificent no doubt but just in case I want a bit put away.

Imagine the bliss of getting away from the dreaded whiney Felicia, or Fliss as she insists on being called by her ghastly friends, flid more like it. She make’s me wanna puke and she is such a stereotype. She plays with dolls and make up and talks with her friends about clothes and boys and wears mummy’s shoes as soon as she’s out of the house. I have to be careful though with her. She’s not entirely dumb, obviously way below my level but I guess some of this genius might be genetic though you wouldn’t think it in a million years looking at our thicky parents. She’s a bit sharper than they know though and I’m sure she clocked me the other day when I rolled my eyes at her stupid comment about Barbie. Maybe she’s pulling the wool over someone s eyes too. Maybe the typical little girl thing is just an act and maybe she’s got some plans of her own. I need to keep an eye on her I guess, don’t want her getting in the way.

 

I read in the Times last week about the child who divorced his parents at the age of 14, something to consider, although it would attract a hell of  a lot of attention and it would be much harder to do what I want then. I think, with many many distractions and devious ways of keeping out of the way and bearing it, I will manage to stay until I’m of age to avoid the least fuss and the least interference from Social services or anyone like that.

Sounds like a plan my man, sometimes I wish I was a twin and we could high-five each other, still you have to live with what you’ve got. That mobile is making me drowsy…

The Japesters

That morning Horace was feeling particularly pleased with himself. He looked at his watch again, only a few minutes to go before his sister Prudence’s alarm woke her, which should mean only a few more seconds after that, before he heard the screaming.

This time it was the best he’d ever conceived of, had to be. She’d done so well last time, he had to admit, her planning was exemplary, even getting Nanny involved so he was convinced that she was away that night, at the Penshursts. So when she leapt out from under his bed in the middle of the night dressed as a witch, warts and huge pointy noise included, he’d been completely unprepared. She’d known it was his worst fear, that he’d had many nightmares about witches stealing into his room at night. As a result, he’d wet the bed and his sister had earned the praise of both parents for such a wonderfully executed jape. It was embarrassing to be so caught out like that, but he had to admit it was very well done; especially the part about Violet Penshurst’s dog dying and her needing to be consoled. It impressed him.

He didn’t want to react too quickly; she’d be looking out for something. He needed to bide his time. For the next 6 or 7 weeks he did nothing but plan and carry n with his usual routine, going to school, playing with Edgar on the beach and tending to his beetle collection. She played her part well in all of this, pretending not to care as the days stretched into weeks. It was only by chance that he overheard her talking to Mama as he arrived late for breakfast one morning – then he knew it was starting to get to her.

‘He must be planning something stupendous Mama. Do you know? You do don’t you?’

Mama had said nothing of course, she knew nothing of his plans, but had she known, she wouldn’t have broken the code. Prudence knew, they’d both been taught this from an early age – never interfere with a jape. Say nothing,  even afterwards, not revealing a single thing about how it had worked, the planning or any other details – you never knew when you might need to use some of that information in the future.

Both of them knew Mama and Papa wouldn’t crack, but they tried, of course they tried, it would have been disappointing to their parents if they hadn’t. Perhaps a seemingly innocent question:

‘Have you seen Prudence, I’ve got a present for her’ was his most recent failed attempt.

As far as he knew they had never cracked.

Just then the alarm went off and he listened carefully waiting for his elaborate scheme to unfold. Sure enough, there it was, a high-pitched scream and was that what he thought it was, the sound of little footsteps, running towards her toilet, exclaiming and shrieking all the way as the dog’s mess he’d carefully planted in abundance by the side of her bed squelched through her toes and with each step, smeared and befouled the white shag pile carpet, from her bed all the way to her toilet.

He was by the door now and he could hear Mama and Papa racing up the stairs to bear witness. As they arrived he threw the door open and was ecstatic to find Prudence kneeling at the toilet bowl vomiting, her bare upturned feet still filthy and behind her a trail of brown malodorous footsteps – a complete success.

He would obviously never tell her how he’d managed to ensure that the pooh was so moist, nor would he reveal how he’d contained the smell.

Mama and Papa laughed and pointed at Prudence, they turned to him and the pride on both their faces brought tears to his eyes.