Mel Cooke, Gleaner WriterWESTERN BUREAU:
Dear Diary,
MISS J has been taking rather good care of them, after the Macaroos did the honours early out in the absence. Diary, I have never seen something like this. The same hooligans, the same scoundrels, the same tiny thugs who we could not get to go to bed on time, eat up their chow (Mani, at any rate) and keep their room clean were like reformed serial killers when Miss J lay down the law, MoBay style.
Darn, they were even taking a mid-afternoon nap!
When Miss J went on the Emancipendence holidays, the Macs took over again. But Diary, even at three plus and one going two, they proved that ingratitude is worse than the sins of witchcraft. I called Mani and told her I was coming for her to get her home. Mrs. M said that as I hung up, Mani started bouncing and said, "Tomorrow is a good day!"
"Why?" Mrs. M asked?
"Because I am going home!"
And you know what that pickaninny did? She got up the next morning, opened the drawers that their stuff was in and packed every single striking stitch into their bag, ready to skedaddle.
If yu eva see my dying trial.
When they reached though, Rinsi showed some remorse. "Granma gone!" she said the next day, walking around the house. "Grandma gone!"
PLAYING THE ROLE
Diary, Rinni has become quite the little actress, when she does not get what she wants. She drops those teeny shoulders, hunches that teeny back, sighs like '51 storm and drags her feet along like Frankenstein, her mouth doing darned good imitation of her favourite book character, the furry fluglefish who can play it like a trumpet.
And don't think you can put one over her either. Like when I came from a supermarket run and they cam to help with the stuff. "This is too heavy," I told her, as she reached for some stuff, trying to follow in her sister's staggering footsteps as she toted something away.
Then I gave her a nearly empty bag and said, groaning, "Heavy, heavy." She gritted her teeth, flexed her tiny muscles, grabbed it and then laughed. "Thish not heavy, thish not heavy," she said.
GIVING BACKCHAT
Neither does Mani take any talk. Like when I told her she was behaving like a spoilt child. "I'm not spoilt!" she said defiantly. "Then stop acting like one!" I commanded. "I'm not acting!" she said.
I jus' shut up.
Then there was this man in the supermarket, who put in his two cents when I was telling her not to tug at stuff on the shelves. "Yu mus' listen to Daddy. Yu wi bruck dem," he said. Mani looked at him, smiling, but when I was pushing the trolley away she said: "Daddy, I can't hear that man."
I see we will have to get her the book, 'How to Speak Jamaican'.
Diary, Miss J carried T with her on this second trip and they have all been having a rollicking good time. T has been having fun showing Mani the alphabet, as well and cartoons and running up and down are the order of the day.
But it is time for C to forward, now. Enough of this &&%$$#$(@@!! Dammit.
So the countdown has begun and Mani is keeping up with it. I printed a pic C e-mailed me and gave it to Rinni and the poor thing clutched it to her chest, saying, "Momeee, Momeee, Momeee."
Yup, it is time. Three days to go.
It seems they are intent, though, on making me work like hell in these last few days. Foot rides, back rides and totes around the house are the order of the day, and when I tried to wangle my way out of one or two by saying "not now", Mani cornered me and said:
"Not now, not now, always not now!"
"So I can't be tired?" I demanded.
"No, you have to be a good Daddy!" she said, wagging a finger.
Diary, I can't manage these baby adults at all.
