>Day 4: 2 December 2010

>You are 2 years old. Write from this perspective. Be childlike. PLAY. 

Give yourself a name with the initials CAT: Charlie Altman-Thorne 
Nickname: Number 3 
Eye colour: blue 
Hair colour: blond
Favourite food: Farley’s rusks
Siblings’ names/ages: Archie, 2; Bertie, 2 
How they treat you: we fight, we play 
Thoughts on toilet training: Mommy and Daddy need more practice

Start with …

Here I am stuck in my crib and my nappy’s wet again. Mommy and Daddy haven’t got the hang of this yet. It goes with having all of us at the same time.

I hate this one already. It’s totally out of my comfort zone. I’ll have to start again. How do you write like a two year old? I’m sure I couldn’t at that age. I doubt I could even read.

So we have the triplets, Archie, Bertie and Charlie or A, B and C, one, two and three. Charlie, being number three, always comes last in the pecking order. What Mommy and Daddy  could really do with is a parent number three. I’m sure I don’t remember anything about being two.

I know my dad dipped my dummy (pacifier) in sugar and he had a great sense of humour even back then. I remember him teaching me to say words. I thought he used wooden animals but Dad says they were drawings in a book. I remember trying to say “giraffe” but having more luck with “hippopotamus”. I did say my dad has a wild sense of humour. I know the memories are true because later, much later, my sister played some tapes to us. She had an old dual-spool tape machine. It might have been a Grundig, although that could have been her record player. The old tapes had recordings of us at Christmas and at other times too. But there I am with my dad saying “hippopotamus” and my dad laughing his head off.

He does that too does Dad, laughs hysterically at the simplest of things until we’re all crying our eyes out, the tears of mirth running down our legs.

And that brings us nicely back to poor Charlie and his wet nappy (diaper). (301 words)

© Diane Parkin 2010

Q. In what area of your creativity are you stuck? 
A. I get stuck trying to adhere bum to seat. 
Q. A new adhesive remover has been invented, guaranteed to get you unstuck. What’s the first creative step you’ll take now that you’re free?
A. I’d have to throw it away and get some of the other stuff first.

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3 thoughts on “>Day 4: 2 December 2010

  1. >289 words. I actually liked this one.Here I am stuck in my crib and I’m innocent I tell you. Mum dumped me here saying ‘Alfie Christmas Turtle, you have the looks of a blonde haired, blue-eyed angel and the soul of a devil.’ I glanced in the mirror, she’s right about the good looks, just wait a few years and I’ll have the girls crawling all over me. Anyway it’s not my fault I’m here. Its George’s fault, he’s my older brother who is four. We were playing really well, building Lego towers. All I wanted was one red one for the top of mine. One measly red one, but he had all the red ones and wouldn’t give me one. All I can say is that his pink, plump, dimpled arm suddenly looked very inviting and before I could help it my teeth had sunk into it. How that boy can scream. I tried denying it but mum said she could match the marks to my teeth. Anyway, I didn’t see it as my fault and because I wouldn’t say sorry, I was whisked up and dumped here. Now, I’ve heard about these holding camps, where interrogation, torture and such like happen. I reckon mum thinks if I’m here long enough I’ll give in. Well, not me, they can do what they like, they can even stop me having my favourite sausages for tea, I’ll not give in. Ah, I can hear mum coming up the stairs. I knew she would give in first. I’ll just stand up and rattle the bars a little just to show I’m not bothered. Hang on; what’s that she has in her hand? OH NO, NOT THAT ANYTHING BUT THAT. I’LL GO QUIETLY BUT PLEASE NOT THE POTTY! Getting stuck: My brain dries up after the first few hundred words.Getting unstuck: Write the next few hundred words.

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