Two years ago today Helpdesk Man and I were staring glassily at the wall of a hospital waiting room while the doctors in their infinite wisdom decided my fulminating pre-eclampsia warranted immediate induction, but was not severe enough to warrant telling me about for eight hours, because really, since when is TOTAL ORGAN FAILURE AND MESSY DEATH worth a memo?
That wasn’t what I came here to say.
Right, yes, the snortlepig. She turns two tomorrow. With that in mind, I have decided to compile a list - non-exhaustive - of things she can do. Because frankly, her entrance into the world was a bit inauspicious. Helpdesk Man caught her head but dropped the rest of her, and when we tried to make her do the breast crawl she flailed around ineptly for twenty minutes until we gave up and latched her on. That was probably the point at which she correctly took us for suckers and decided she wanted to be held constantly for the next fourteen months.
Also not what I came here to say. Skills. Yus. At the age of two-tomorrow, the snortlepig can now:
- Knead bread very efficiently, sprinkling it with flour and squooshing it into submission. Typically she then becomes so proud of her work that she has to give the dough a little kiss. She is a sweetcheeks.
- Talk about rhinos, zebras, giraffes, monkeys, piggies, buses, flies, crocuses, trees, biscuits, chocolate mousse and a host of other notable things.
- Differentiate between motorbikes and scooters.
- Count. To eight, if you’re not too hung up on the number five.
- Lead an enjoyable and fulfilling life, despite suffering from a chronic case of helium bottom. This condition generally manifests when she is having the milks - slowly, her back legs straighten and creep until her hinder end is high up in the air, where it waves tranquilly in the breeze. Sometimes this is accompanied by an idle humming sound coming from the other end of the pig. The only temporary cure is to say sharply “Pig, helium bottom!” and squash the offending rear with an elbow.
- Wear two of the tiniest plaits you ever did see.
- Charm old ladies in the street by putting one finger in her mouth and beaming with sickening coyness. She did not get this from me. It confounds me mightily.
- Make up delightfully stream-of-consciousness songs. They usually go something like this: “An’ the treeees an’ the miiiiilks an’ the skyyyy, an’ Bobby Mouse, an’ pussies, an’ trees, an’ doggies, an’ buses, an’ the milks…”. Sometimes they last for entire car trips.
- Name her body parts, including her squish and her underchins.
- Demand “More singing onna screen, PEASE!”, which currently means YouTube clips of The Pirates of Penzance, and/or Copacabana.
- Gaze in rapt, un-Protestant adoration at a sleeping baby approximately forever, or until it wakes up.
- Play dead to avert punishment.
She can also do baby yoga, craft freeform upcycled fibre art and speak a little Swahili, but I didn’t want to make you feel bad. Happy birthday tomorrow, snortlepig!
Also, question: for how long after a snortlepig turns two is it appropriate and non-scarring to refer to her in public as Piggie or La Pigge? People are starting to give me Looks when I call her in the library.