When Garnet says he wants to wear a dress, he means it. Unless he is talking about a T-shirt, which I have taken to calling dresses in an attempt to encourage him to sometimes wear one instead of an actual dress.
Colours: Garnet knows his colours, sort of. But sometimes he calls things by the colour he wants them to be. His pale blue Bonds wondersuit pyjamas he calls silver. When he asks for his orange giraffe dress he means the grey shirt with a variety of African animals on it. Magical thinking.
He calls knives yu-yus
He calls passionfruit wu-wus
He calls elephants do-dahs.
Apart from that he speaks English.
Yuyus, wuwus and do-dahs are his top three favourite things. Number four is tongs.
He likes to say he hates things and they are horrible. He usually doesn’t mean it. He just likes the drama.
He is saying fox, not fuck. Unless he is saying fuck.
He is saying Cottontail when you think he is saying crocodile or cockatoo.
About 18 hours a day the pair of them will be in character as Lily Rabbit and Cottontail from the accursed works of Beatrix Potter. The rest of the time Garnet likes to be addressed as Baby Spot (the dog) or Baby Panda. Occasionally Baby Zebra or Baby Rhino. Try to keep up.
Under no circumstances allow May Blossom to tie Garnet’s shoes. No one on earth can undo that kid’s knots.
The nappies, hats, shoes and craft supplies are in the boxes so marked in the giant Ikea white shelves that everyone thinks will make their life more organised. I don’t know where anything else is in the whole house. I am but one person.
Sorry about the state of the fridge.
You can’t run more than one electrical appliance in the kitchen or laundry at the same time. We live in the olden days.
There is no jumping allowed on the furniture. Even if the culprit claims he or she is doing yoga.
When Garnet is hurt or upset, his default position is to cry that he wants to go to the zoo or that he misses his friend Charlie. Wait it out. Four times out of ten you won’t have to go to the zoo or Facetime Charlie.
If May Blossom narrows her eyes at you and scowls, shit is about to get real. Seek shelter.
If you take the kids to the movies, please be aware Garnet is not yet heavy enough to hold down a flip up seat. You’ll look back to find him folded in half like origami, with his feet beside his ears. A muffled voice will be chirping ‘I’m dead!’. He is not dead.
If in doubt about anything, ask May Blossom. She runs this joint.
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