by Dr. Iain Corness
Hello
again! It’s me, Marisa. I know I was featured this time last year, but a
lot has happened since then, and the boss of the Pattaya Mail,
Uncle Peter Malhotra, said Dad should fill in the readers what’s been
happening in my life. So here’s a few pages from what I have modestly
called “Marisa’s Diary”.
For starters I’m now 21 months and I have a much
better understanding of what is going on in life – and my life
especially. With my new maturity I can look back and sometimes I even
wonder at myself back this time last year. How immature, I have to admit!
I’ve certainly got over my crush on Leo Payne, for example. He’s a
nice enough boy, but really too old for me. I’m not going to be like Mum
left looking after an older husband. For me it’s going to be an equal
partnership. He will look after me 100 percent, and I’ll look after the
cat.
Talking about the cat, three months ago Mum and Dad
brought home this mewling thing all wrapped up in a blanket. I tried to
say to them both, “What have you brought this thing home for? We’ve
already got a pet!” Turns out that Mum’s increasing fatness was
nothing to do with middle-aged spread as I had thought, but the mewling
thing was a baby brother they had made for me. His name’s Evan and he
cries a lot if Mum’s not there with the milk bar. That used to be my
milk bar, but I don’t need it anymore, because I have my own cup now.
Much faster and Auntie Mai, my Nanny gets it for me after I point at the
cup and grunt. (Nanny doesn’t speak English, and grunting is about as
close as I can go to speaking Laos.)
Really, to be honest, I’m not all that impressed with
Evan. I got turfed out of Mum and Dad’s bed to let him in, and I was
sent to sleep in the other room with Auntie Mai. I get my own back every
so often by pulling on his little wee-wee pipe. I think Mum calls it his
‘peanut’, but whatever, he gives a good squeal, and I just stand and
look innocent and make a big show of giving him a kiss. But when they’re
not watching I practice karate on his stomach.
However, let’s get back to the last 12 months. I went
to see my grandmother in Scotland in April. That was fun. It was about
that time I had decided that I should start walking. It made me laugh so
much that every time I took a few steps Mum and Dad would go into
raptures, so I didn’t show them that I really could walk. You know the
old trick – take five steps and fall down while they were counting one,
two, three, four five. Then they pick you up and say “Good girl” and
give you anything you want. Anyway, when we got to Don Muang airport I was
rapt! Two kilometers of carpeted ‘runway’ just for me. Except it was
my own carpeted ‘run-a-way’ and away I went, as soon as the Oldies
backs were turned. You should have seen their faces when they found I had
hopped out of the stroller and was half way to Terminal 2.
Actually I hated the plane trip. Mum and Dad had seats
and I got given a thing like a large shoe box stuck on the partition.
Hell! Here I was, a fully walking woman and I’m supposed to stay in this
carry-cot for 12 hours. You’ve got to be joking! They filled me up with
milk to try and keep me quiet, but I sort of overflowed and chucked up all
over Mum and her seat. That “sicky” smell fair turns Dad off, and
there he was, wiping it up with paper towels from the toilet, while Mum
had to go and change her clothes. Even that was not enough for them to
cotton on to the fact that I hated the shoe box thing, so I had to do it
again on the way back to Thailand as well. This time I took pity on Mum
and leaned over the side and chucked up all over the feet and shoes of the
man in the next seat. You should have seen Dad this time! On his knees
apologizing and wiping the guy’s shoes down! To celebrate my domination
of the flight, I then pee’d myself and demanded a nappy change right
there and then. There were about 300 people on that flight, but I soon
showed them who was really in charge!
Almost forgot. I’m going to school now. Best Nursery
School they call it. I have to say I was not too impressed for the first
few days, so I gave them the tearful tantrum routine, but they just
ignored me, so I stood in the corner doing the quiet sobbing trick that
always works on Dad, but they didn’t seem to notice, so I had to give up
on that ploy too. After a couple of days I met this young chap and I’ve
been giving him the once over. Seems nice enough, but I’m not too sure
of his financial status, but I’ll let you know next year.
I’ve also found that when I’m good, Mum calls me
“her little girl”, but when I’ve scribbled on the chairs or
something similar, she tells Dad, “Your little girl has been naughty
again!” Amazing, isn’t it. They still don’t understand, despite
their ages, that I’m nobody’s “little girl”. I’m me! I’m
Marisa and I do what I please. And as soon as they have learned that, I
think my work in the family will be completed. But they sure are slow
learners.
OK. Till next year, have a great 12 months, and don’t sit next to Mum
and Dad on a plane going anywhere! Love, Marisa!
