Mammy loves cows.
“Mammy Mammy Mammy Mammy Mammy Mammy Mammy Mammy Mammy Mammy Mammy” sings Princess, swinging off my legs as I try to cook her tea.
Try as I might, nothing is distracting her. I try my cross voice. I am about to resort to the naughty step as it her hanging off of me is nothing short of dangerous when pots are bubbling, when low and behold, my life and sanity are saved by cows.
Last night see, Granda put his lovely cows and their baby calves into the paddock beside us. Princess hadn’t paid much attention.
Mammy remembers back a few years to our first summer in the house, when in order to get Mini-Me to give me 5 minutes peace, Mammy had suggested that she go count Granda’s cows. It had worked and Mammy had enjoyed a cuppa on the doorstep while she’d stood counting “one, tooooo, freeeeee, seveeeeen, ten…” Mammy had of course felt like a terrible Mammy and sworn that she’d never do such a thing to her again. #badmammy
And Mammy has stuck to that promise. Because you see Mini-Me is not Princess, so it doesn’t count! But she does, so guess what happened next.
“OOOOOOH Look at Granda’s cows!”
Yeah whatever Mammy…Nope Not taking me on.
“Princess would you go over and count Granda’s cows for him please?”
“Ok Mammy!” and off she wobbled, before spending almost 9 minutes repeating “Wan, toooo, freeeee, fwiiiiive, seven, niiiine, ten,,, four….toooo”.
Oh the memories! Oh the cuteness! Oh the joy!
Yes indeed, Mammy loves the cows.