The Madness Unleashed

Right.  *deep breath*.  I’m alive.  But, fuck, only barely.  I’ve just spent 3 days in the Waterberg*.  Nice, I hear you say?  WRONG. There were 7…yes, count them, *seven* children under the age of 8. Chaos.  Pandemonium.  Colossal mayhem.  Oh.  My.  God. 

Now amongst my mates I’m either called the baby whisperer, “the bad influence” and /or “Mad Aunt Dolce”. 

The first refers to my ability to put any child to sleep.  I don’t know how, but it’s possibly because I don’t care if they scream themselves to sleep, that they can’t manipulate me with their wiggling and whining and that, for me, it’s more about giving their harassed parent a break, than actually getting them to snooze.  I can be fairly fierce. And once they calm down, the patented combination of a crooning song/softly read story and the ability to rock like a legend, and they are gone. 

“The bad influence”, let’s be honest, is because I have the mental age of a 6 year old.  I stick out my tongue, pull faces, talk gibberish and bang things against other things with the best of them.   I’ve been known to encourage children to jump on beds, eat their bogies and share gross tales of slime and grunge. 

“Mad Aunt Dolce” is because I do this as a grown up.  I will crawl through a storm water drain (if it’s safe), eat an ant on a dare (slight of hand rocks) and bark like a dog on command (if it distracts a fractious child).  Parents are both appalled and delighted.  Children generally get completely past themselves and get wild and overexcited.  They are told, in my fiercest voice, that they must do as I say, not as I do.  As I swear at caterpillars and howl like a loon at the moon.  The best part is at that exact point, when they are getting revolting, I can give them back and walk away.  *grin*

But this weekend?  Ggaah.  One child had the will of Hitler, as well as his genocidal tendencies (towards insects).  Another was his willing Goebbels.  Another, who despite being very sweet, had a catty and wanted to shoot everything.  Another was teething, and screamed for most of the time she was awake.  Which was a lot.  One refused to wear clothes.  One chewed everything she got her paws on.  And her brother whipped his willy out every 6 seconds to piss on everything, including a rather annoyed sleeping grownup. 

They climbed, crawled, shuffled, bit, wailed, shrieked, poked, prodded, beat, wiggled and snot trailed their way into every single crevasse and hole.  They trashed every room.  They demolished every toy.  They tripped and bashed and fell.  They bled and oozed and poo’ed.  Generally, they were madness unleashed. 

And, of course, every time one of them snuggled into the crook of my arm and gave me a cuddle, I was lost again.

Fukkin’ kids.


One massive prophylactic weekend!

*It was absolutely stunning though. Even if I was pining.

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19 thoughts on “The Madness Unleashed

  1. kyknoord says:

    Made in god’s image. Oh yes.

  2. nursemyra says:

    huh! sounds like a quiet day at the gimcrack 🙂

  3. Dolce says:

    @ Kyk > *SNORT* Indeed. Nappy wearing old fart.

    @ Nurse M > your patients cuddle you?

    P.S. How come one of my own posts is listed as a related post? Right. Ok.

  4. 302 says:

    i thought you ate children as part of your good life diet. are you getting soft i wonder?

  5. Parenthesis says:

    You see above scenario is why I have six godchildren, and none of my own. You get to play with them, spoil them, and return them to mommy before they transmute from sweet well behaved angels to demons from the inner circles of hell 😉

  6. Rox says:

    Euw, children. Babies are just as bad, but they’re all pasteled and freeleced and cottoned and baby powdered – so are actually way more devious as they are so unassuming with their cuddliness.

    That didn’t stop me from wanting to take my cousin’s 5 week old perfect doll of a baby home with me the other day when I went to visit them. Sneaky they are.

  7. nursemyra says:

    actually, yes. that’s one of the side effects of aged care. I must get about 7 or 8 hugs a day. that’s why I have a bottle of microshield in my hip pocket at all times!

  8. daisyfae says:

    when i was coaching The Boys soccer (football) squad (8 year olds) i invented something known as the Ritalin Dart Gun. Had i found a manufacturer, i could have made a fortune – and been able to bust a ritalin cap in their sorry little ADHD asses at will… face it – some days you’re the baby butt, some days you’re the wipe…

  9. Mrs. Benitez says:

    I like children. Boiled.

  10. Katt says:

    Okay, this entire post I can identify with except the losing it and melting bits. What is the secret?

  11. Parenthesis says:

    Mrs B: anyone who doesn’t like dogs and kids … can’t be half bad 🙂

  12. jenty says:

    LOL sounds like the chaos at my house when our friends bring their kids to play!

  13. thegnukid says:

    Being the designated childish adult can be fun. You can screw with the kids brains with fun lies, talk them into doing embarassing things, then give them back to their parental units. But the Hitler/Goebbels team? Sneak a couple shots of whiskey in their orange juice, ja? Huh…I’m amazed they let me raise two kids…

  14. Dolce says:

    @ 302 > I cannot be held accountable. My womb is despicable. It will stop at *nothing* to get it’s evil plans fulfilled.

    @ P > Godchildren? Someone put you in charge of their children’s spirtitual well being. Aaaaahahahaha.

    @ Rox > they are eeeevil!

    @ Nurse Myra > And a cattle prod.

    @ Dais > You volunteered for that? Mind you, I can see you converting the little demons into your new age army. I’m right, aren’t I?

    @ Mrs B > I prefer butterflied on the braai, but it’s hard to crack the sternum, little blighters.

    @ Katt > too melting? Throw water on me.

    @ P > Dogs can be trained.

    @ Jenty > I really, really don’t know how you do it.!

    @ Gnu > Aaah, yes. Those impressionable little minds. I like to teach them how to swear and then watch the parents reactions. Hours of fun. And china, that whisky is ALL MINE!

  15. Parenthesis says:

    Oh you don’t need to teach them to swear. To whit, my god son, aged 5, who arrived home from play school, and upon being told to go and clean his room, told his father, to “f*** off, I’m busy”. Got the inflection and tone of voice 100% correct, first time. Dad meantime, almost ruptured something …

  16. Rox says:

    Classic! See, if they could entertain like that and not be in full evil mode the whole time, they may have more value.

  17. Dolce says:

    @ P > *snort* I’d give good money to watch that stuff!

    @ Rox > I think we’re on to something…a reality show…”when good toddlers go bad!”

  18. Parenthesis says:

    Love the idea of a reality show. You could call it “Spawn” 😉

  19. Dolce says:

    @ P > “Spawn”? Classic. Then we could do challenge shows with “The Nanny”, like a mini WWF-type thing. Oh, the potential!

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