My family are crazy. I know I should have stayed in the womb. It was nicer in there. From the inside, I could picture what these people would be like, rather than having to live with the horrible reality of who they are.
I like my mummy. She's nice. She has very pretty dark hair. Her singing voice is beautiful, unlike Daddy. His singing voice makes me cry. Then he sings even more because he thinks that'll help. It really doesn't. I just cry harder. Then Mummy comes rushing in, tells Daddy he sounds like a drowning cat- whatever that is- and then tells him to go and do something useful, like fill the dishwasher. I'm not sure what a dishwasher is but I just hope he doesn't sing to it.
I'm not too sure what I make of my sister, yet. She's one that I'm still trying to work out. A few weeks ago, Mummy and Daddy went out and I didn't like that. They left me with Martha. I would have much prefered to be left with daideó and mémé. They spoil me with lots of hugs and kisses and sometimes, Uncle Lucas comes to help them babysit me and he strums his guitar and then I fall asleep. It's not because he's boring. I think it's because he's a wizard and his music is a spell.
That's one thing I like about Martha. Off topic. She likes to watch films about wizards and witches and a bad man with no nose. I like those films. Not a fan of the big thing that hisses in it but I like the rest. It's better than the other stuff she watches. And it's certainly much better than having to watch her and her friend flirt with each other.
Her friend has been over a few times to help her look after me. Not that they actually look at me. No, they pretend not to look at each other while looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes. It's what Mummy and Daddy do before they decide to put me in my bed and then leave me in the middle of the night. Then they start screaming. It's only happened twice this week. I'm not scared, though. Mummy is always smiling after and Daddy whistles. At least his whistling is better than his singing.
I even like my aunt, Sophie. Sometimes she watches me with a really sad look on her face like she's about to cry, but then whenever she picks me up, she holds on to me really tightly and won't let Aunt Emma take me away from her. Not that I'm a fan of Aunt Emma. Her perfume is really strong and I keep sneezing and then Uncle Dan tells Mummy that I'm coming down with a cold and then Daddy tells Uncle Dan that he's the doctor, not Uncle Dan and then Martha's friend gets involved and everyone starts to shout, "Sod off, Sam."
It's a very hostile environment being around this family. That's why I'd rather go back inside. At least then the noise was dulled by an amniotic sac, some internal organs, muscles and skin. Out here, there's nothing to protect me from the craziness. I hope it's not contagious. Or genetic. I'd hate to be anything like these weirdoes-
Oh, daideó! Daideó, come and save me!
My daideó walks past me, even though I'm staring at him. How very dare he?! I'm the most precious thing in the world to him. Or at least that's what he says. Maybe men tell you sweet things like that sometimes and then act like arseholes that pretend like you don't exist.
Maybe if I cry, daideó will come back and rescue me and then he can take me out for a walk in my pram and show me where the duckies live. I like going to see where the duckies live. I don't like the duckies, though. They look terrifying. I just like the pond.
Ok, I'll cry. I have nothing to lose.
Oh, no. Abort mission. ABORT MISSION. ABORT MISSION.
My plans to get daideó's attention has not gone to plan. Uncle Adam has picked me up and his beard is making my head itch. If my cries get louder, someone will think he's the one making me upset and then Uncle Adam will pass me on to someone else and I'll just keep crying until daideó picks me up and then I can stop crying once he puts me in the pram and takes me to the duckie pond.
"Ada, you're making her cry," Aunt Emma chimes in. My plan is working a treat so far. All she needs to do now is tell him to give me to her. Come on, Aunt Emma, be a babe and do this for me. "Give her here."
Right, I just need to get from her to... um... Uncle Lucas? No, maybe he'll play his guitar and I'll fall asleep and then daideó won't take me out in my pram. Maybe Uncle Dan will be a good person to go to next. How can I get from here to there, though? Urgh, my don't my legs work like these adult legs work? All I can do with my legs is kick them out.
Oh, now that could work. Kick. Kick. Kick. I forgot how much fun it is to kick. It annoyed Mummy all the time and she would tell me to stop kicking but it's really fun! Kick. Kick. Kick. Cry. Cry. Cry. Kick. Scram. Kick.
"Let me give it a go," Uncle Dan says. His tone of voice is unpleasant and I don't think I like it. I'll give him a big kick once Aunt Emma passes me over. Uncle Dan starts to rock me back and forth and it's making me sick. Being sick was not in the plan. Time to kick him. It has to be done. "Ow, you tiny devil. Why did you kick me?"
Honestly, he's the only man who would prefer it if I went sick over his shirt. Idiot. For good measure, I may just give him what he wants.
Before I get the chance, mémé comes to the rescue and takes me from Uncle Dan. Good riddance to him. His aftershave was disgusting too. I poke my tongue out and blow. Mémé laughs at the noise I make but within seconds of her holding me, a loud buzzer goes off, the pitch so high that it makes me scream.
"Jimmy, come here!" Mémé shouts for my daideó. "Come and take the baby so I can finish cooking."
From the living room, my daideó comes to rescue me. I shall forgive him for ignoring me earlier now that he's here. He scoops me up and gently rests my head against his shoulder and starts to pat my back. Now, this is the life!
"How long will food take to cook?" Daideó asks Mémé. She tells him that it'll be about another hour, give or take. I feel daideó nod. "In that case, I might take this diva for a walk. Going to the duck pond always seems to settle her."
Bingo! Now, that's what I've been crying about.
When I'm all settled in my pram, daideó announces that he's taking me for a walk and asks if anyone else wants to come. To my horror, Daddy says that he'll tag along. This was not part of the deal, daideó. Not part of the deal, at all. I've changed my mind. I don't want to go anymore. Get me the hell out of my pram. I want my mummy. Men are useless.
"Come on then, sweetheart," Daddy coos at me. I stare at him and blow through my lips, making that funny noise that mémé liked earlier. "That's cute, Sera. Let's go for a walk."
Daddy lets my daideó push the pram and I'm ok with that. It's the best case scenario, really. While we walk, I can feel something cold tickle my face. I gurgle and turn my head away, feeling another cry about to come on. Before it happens, though, Daddy says, "Jimmy, hold on a sec. She needs her little hat and blankie."
Yes, mister, I do need my hat and blankie. It's the one Uncle Mick gave me last week and it is my favourite thing ever. Mummy lets me wear my hat whenever we go out and my blankie smells like... well, I'm not sure what it smells like, but whatever it is, it smells lovely. It makes going for a walk in my pram so much better. I can't feel the cold on my cheeks now.
"So, any update on the proposal yet?" Daideó asks Daddy. "Have either of you changed your mind on that front? I mean, I know I spent a fortune on Sophie's wedding to Daniel and said, 'never again,' but if you and Charlotte got married, I'd gladly foot the bill."
Daddy laughs. "Trying to get rid of her, are you, Jimmy?"
"Not at all. All I'm saying is, I wouldn't let Charlotte marry anyone I don't approve of and you, Isaac, are the rare breed of someone that I approve of. If you and Charlotte were to marry, I'd have no objection."
They keep talking but it's nothing interesting to me. Now, the sky on the other hand, well that's interesting. It changes colour so fast. Sometimes, it'll be dark and there are yellow things stuck to it. Martha's hair reminds me of them. Then the sky will be orange. Then it goes grey. Then it goes blue. And then it goes grey. And then it goes dark again. But that's not all. No, when the sky is orange or grey or blue, there are white things on it and yesterday, when Mummy took me with her to that meeting with the man who has an annoying voice, one of the white things looked a lot like Roo.
I like looking up at the sky.
"Ok, sweetheart, here we are," Daideó says. His finger brushes my cheek and I turn to look at him. He gives me a goofy smile and I gurgle in response. I can't laugh like daideó can. Not yet. But one day, I want to. I want to sound like Mummy when I do learn to laugh though. She's so pretty when she laughs. That's what Daddy says, anyway.
Daideó picks me out of the pram and lets me sit on his lap once he's sitting on the bench. Daddy makes sure that my pram can't run away because one day last week when we went to the park, the pram ran away from Daddy and he had to run and he kept saying that it was really hard to run with a baby in his hand and that the stupid pram will have to go back to the shop. My pram didn't go back to the shop. Daddy just makes doubly sure that it can't run away now.
"You could ask her to marry you on Christmas Day," Daideó speaks to Daddy. "She won't be able to say no to you then."
"I think she will still turn me down," Daddy tells daideó. Daddy's hand comes towards me and he moves my hat a little. I don't mind because now I can see the sky in the water and it looks so much prettier. You can't see the sky in the water at home when Mummy or Daddy or Martha give me a bath. That's why I cry when they try to bath me. "Anyway, we've got this little one, now, she why get married?"
Daideó makes the same noise as the piggy from my bedtime story. "True enough. Just to warn you, though, you know this ball thing that Sophie and Sam have been planning? Harlow will be there and while she hasn't said anything about you and Charlotte needing to get married, she will corner you on the night and insist that you get hitched soon. If I were you, I'd start praying for her to die."
Oh, look. It's Roo in the sky again. Roo! It's me, Seraphina! Roo! Oh, he's gone. That's upsetting.
"She's about to scream her head off, mind," Daddy warns daideó just before I tip my head back and let out the biggest cry of my life.
Ok, so I know some of you weren't keen on another Seraphina POV but a few of you were. I can see why some of you wouldn't want it but I like writing in Seraphina's voice because I think babies are comical.
Anyway, that's your Sunday night update. Let me know if you either:
Loved it, or
Hated it.
Any thoughts on Isaac proposing to Charlotte on Christmas Day?
Clichéd?
Would Charlotte even say 'yes' if Isaac asked? (I know I said she wouldn't before, but it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. Writers included!)
Have a great start to your week, everyone! I'll see you on Wednesday!
Sarah, xx