My two year old never fails to surprise me.
This morning after Rick had left for work, he began running around in hysterics with his shoes in hand shouting “Car! Car! Car!” By the time I’d pulled on my trusty jeggings and was attempting to cover up my racoon bags with Garnier’s roll-on concealer, I had had it.
“That’s enough!” I half-barked at him as I held him by the shoulders and looked him very sternly in the eye. “We will go in the car, but only after mummy gets ready, Pete gets ready and when mummy has packed food for you and Pete. Okay? OKAY!? So stop shouting and stop running around. PLEASE!”
Clearly, I’d lost sight of all the tried-and-tested parenting advice about ignoring or distracting one’s screaming toddler. Instead, I was opting for the irrational I-am-going-to-talk-to-my-child-like-he’s-an-eighteen-year-old-and-expect-him-to-respond-in-kind-OR-ELSE.
And respond in kind Angus did. He stopped shouting, looked at me for a few moments, nodded his head very seriously, turned around and started making his way to Pete’s room – supposedly to help get him ready.
Mum – 0. Angus – 1.
Anyway, this afternoon I tried to re-create art.
Or more specifically, I tried to re-create a piece of art that Pierce Brosnan’s character steals in The Thomas Crown Affair called The Faceless Businessman.
This was my re-interpretation:
He has an apple. I have an Apple – phone. (Steve Jobs should be paying me to come up with stuff like this.)
Even though The Faceless Businessman is not actually the correct name of the original artwork* (I know this because my friend Google told me), I shall give mine the title:
The Faceless Mum Who Hasn’t Had Time To Brush Her Hair.
*It is actually called The Son of Man, and it is by the artist René Magritt.