There was that time, right, when I went to the zoo with a dear friend and her two kids, and was left with the older one, in a stroller to save his tired little legs, while the other was taken for changing. And, because he likes trains, parked him up next to the little train line so we could wave at the passing little train.
And, after I had stood there, waving for a little bit, and chatting away to him about trains and who was on the train and where the train was going, I was disturbed from my waving by a voice behind me shouting Excuse me? Maam? Is THIS yours?, and, some dozens of yards away, a small family were standing by the stroller of my tiny charge, which had – without my knowledge – left my side, and rolled to a gentle stop just next to the lion pit.
Apparently, prams have brakes.
Brakes I hadnt put on.
I ran, flustered, and grabbed the handles of the buggy, checking first on my little friend within, who had not noticed anything was awry, and was chatting away, assuming me to have been responsibly at the helm all the time. Oopsies! I said in my poshest winsome English accent I didnt know – ha ha ha ha – these contraptions had brakes! Im not – ooh hoo hoo hoo hee – Im not a parent, you see!
Probably best… They joked, somewhat cruelly.
And quite, yknow, accurately.
And we all went off to enjoy our separate days off (although me and my little charge went in the same direction, this time), and my dear friend forgave, with deep sighs of patience for her chaotic childless Me, and that was that. And it was the kind of thing I meant to blog about, and then forgot.
It should be noted that there were no lions in the pit at the time.
Not that I would have remembered to blog about it any more urgently if there were.
That seems like a wrong thing to suggest.
Im going to stop now.