Everybody Eats When They Come To My House

I have been spending quite a bit of time lately with my niece Diana. She is taking my vagrancy as a sign that I am to become her permanent playmate. Well, I *am* living in her playroom, after all. I don't mind, though. I think it's a nicely positive spin to put on the whole situation.

'No, I'm not unemployed and homeless. I'm an au pair!'

Diana's current favourite game is 'making' birthday cakes for various animals - her stuffed cat, my dog Jack, and most recently Clifford the Big Red Dog. Diana sits with a box and a wooden spoon and instructs me to retrieve various ingredients from her toy fridge. Her cakes are part realistic ingredients, part based on the picture of groceries on the inside of the fridge, and part whatever random plastic food is in sight. For example, Clifford's cake consisted of:

22 eggs (she kept sending me back for more, usually in the quantity of "five and two and one")
9 cupcakes
honey
strawberries
sugar
milk
a piece of Swiss cheese
a slice of pizza



.........and beer


"You want me to get beer?"

"Yes."

[pause]

"Um, how old is Clifford?"

"He's really big."

"I know, but how old is he?"

"Ummm.....four million."

[a longer pause]

".......OK, well I guess he's legal."


I'm trying to get her outside more often.