Now I’m not going to mention any names (believe it or not, my blog can be a secret confessional, in case you have any embarrassing tales to impart) so please do not press me for the true identity of the guilty grandfather in question. But don’t get too excited because the confession I received by means of an email today did not relate to a crime as such, unless you consider a misleading omission a lie, and even then a lie isn’t exactly perjury unless uttered under oath – is it? In this instance the “omission” would hardly rate even as a venial sin (according to the Catholic Clergy – “The gravity of a lie [normally a venial – lesser- sin] is measured against the nature of the truth it deforms, the circumstances, the intentions of the one who lies, and the harm suffered by its victims.”) In other words, read on in the confidence that no real harm was done, but also that the circumstances were rather humorous.
A male friend of ours, living in a country other than England, was asked at short notice if he would oblige by babysitting his young grandson. I might as well just let you read the email:
I picked the little man up at 8 am and decided to take him to Victoria point. Not the part you know, but an area that is just great for little kids and adults alike. I bought a sausage roll and a pasty, plus a little milk drink to see us through till we got back to home here.
After our snack we decided to walk on the beach. Well, the tide was out and I mean out! There were 300 meters of sand in front of us and, as we walked out toward the sea, I noticed – or I thought I saw – the sand move. I wasn’t wrong, for there in front of us was the biggest army of soldier crabs I’d ever seen in my life! It was like watching a Napoleonic army on the move from a higher vantage point.
The vanguard in front were in a slight “V” shape, flanks to the left, flanks to the right, main body of soldiers in the middle and – would you believe? – a rearguard urging all before them on. Incredible!! Sorry but I never thought to take a photo.To be truthful, the little chap wasn’t overly taken with what I found quite fascinating, but he was okay after I pointed out that they were my friends. He found the swings and slides more to his liking, loads more fun than creepy crabs. So we did bond to a greater degree.
Chapter two.
We arrived home safely enough and it was time for his bottle of milk. While he had that I had a cup of tea and I coaxed him into a half-hour lay down next to me on the settee.
Four hours earlier his mother had said to me:
“You might have to change his nappy, he’s due for something later…”
Luckily for me, or so I thought – so far so good. As we lay there on the couch something wafted past my nostrils just as we were both stirring from our little bonding lay down with each other. Did I say “wafting”? Let me clarify. Something shattered my awakening like… you wouldn’t believe! I now know what it was and so do you – need I explain?
I was straight on the phone.
“When are you coming here?” I pleaded.
“Be there in half an hour” she said.
About an hour later…
“All okay?,” she asked.
“Yes”, I answered nonchalantly.
“He smells a bit,” she hinted.
“I think he’s just done something” I said.
“How long ago?”
“Two minutes, if that,” I fibbed.
Anyway to cut a long story short, she knew I was fibbing. I couldn’t bring myself to do it (change the nappy), and I do feel guilty; but, on the other hand, I feared breaking the bond between his nappy and his lovely little bum…
I’m sure the squeamish grandfather will be forgiven. Methinks it is time for the “little man” to be potty-trained.
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