28 January 2006

Iced Bun Bandit

Stop press. Before I go any further, I'd like to draw your attention to the slight correction, or elaboration if you like, to my entry below. It hadn't crossed my mind that readers would misconstrue my blood boiling and harmless swearing as directed at or the result of Saffron's perfectly acceptable - and adorable - behaviour. (How could you?) For the record, all my hissing and table-banging these days are directed almost exclusively at my laptop or the rather trying process of posting blog entries.

Moving swiftly on.

Pictured here is the scene which greeted us one Sunday afternoon when we went looking for Saffron after an alarming 10 minutes of silence. We were chatting quite happily with Nana in her kitchen as she was frying dinner (a shoal of fish and enough chips to make a grown man cry), when I realised that Saffron had very subtly extricated herself from our company and was nowhere to be found. When shouts for "Saffron? Saffron?" went unheeded, I made my way to the lounge and sure enough, found the bandit hunched over my now-open bag, its contents all over the carpet, paper bag from local baker's ripped apart with reckless abandon. As she looked up at me sheepishly, iced bun held gingerly in both hands, she didn't once stop licking the sugar icing and instead instinctively tightened her grip on the incriminating evidence. (I know where she's coming from. It's like if you know you're going to get in trouble for buying a handbag anyway, you might as well get it in black and brown, and a pair of shoes to match while you're at it.)

It was all very funny and quite honestly I was torn between giving her my "You've been very naughty and I'm mad at you" glare and lecture or rushing to snap a picture for posterity. You can see clearly where my parenting priorities lie.