Its my children's birthday today. One of them is 3 and the other 1.
Some fucker has given my daughter one of those dolls that cries incessantly unless you stick a bottle in its mouth and rub its forehead. Somewhat curiously, the water that it drinks also provides the tears that it cries, so the implicit message to the doll's 3 year old mummy is that if you withhold food and water babies won't cry.
Anyway, the fucking thing has malfunctioned and won't stop crying, so now we have 3 year old, her own mother, and her mother's mother (I told you it was bad) fussing over the thing. I've taken refuge upstairs but I'm waiting for the moment when their attention is taken by something else so that I can whisk the doll, for whom I have chosen the name Shannon, upstairs and secrete her in the drawer under my bed.
Press conference to be held at around 10am when they notice that she has gone missing, and I will be able to demonstrate how distraught I am.
