At breakfast, Simon looked at me and said, “What did I remind you of?”

“When?”

“Last night, when we went to bed.”

“I have no idea, why?”

“Well, I tossed and turned for at least an hour trying to work it out.”

“Never mind, it can’t have been important or I’d have remembered.” I laughed inside, a wind up that had worked. He must never know.

“Happy New Year,” said Stella as she arrived at the kitchen.

“And to you, too,” I replied.

“Attie New Weir, Annie Stewwa,” grinned a little face with Marmite around her mouth.

“And the same to you, sweetie-pie,” she walked over to Mima and kissed her.
“You look tired, Simon,” she sat down and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Why was that, guilty conscience?”

“Indeed it was not,” he snapped back indignantly, “my conscience is clear.”

“Yeah, they say psychos don’t have one,” she continued.

“Daddy gotta bike,” called a little voice, I thought I’d let Stella sort that one out.

“Yes, that’s right, daddy is a cyclist,” said Stella, snorting as she tried to hold back a guffaw. Even Simon laughed.

“If I ever need a character witness, you’re the one I’d call,” he said to Mima.

“Daddy’s cwapper knickers,” said the parrot, who was obviously suffering from an audio failure of some sort.

“Hey there, Crappy Knickers, pass me the marmalade, would you.” Stella’s eyes sparkled, she had a stick and would beat him unmercifully.

“No, get it your bloody self,” Simon threw down his napkin and stormed away from the table.

Stella laughed nervously. “Was it something that I said?”

“I think he’s on his period, he gets crabby like this, perhaps his boobs have swollen and his bra’s too tight.”

“Daddy’s bwa is too tight,” came back the echo.

“Hush now, parrot, you don’t have to repeat everything I say.”

“Mima a pawwot,” she giggled to herself.

“Pieces of eight, squawk, Pieces of eight,” said Stella in a mock parrot’s voice, sounding like something from Monty Python.

“Piece of steak,” said Mima. I was beginning to wonder if she did have a hearing problem.

I cleared up the dishes and wiped Mima’s face, after I taken off her bib, I put her down on the floor and she scampered off to get her doll and pushchair. She’d certainly had some fun with those, which pleased me, as it justified the cost. A few moments later she brought me her naked doll and the clothing she was trying to put on it. I wasn’t so pleased with that. It had been quite expensive for what it was and didn’t really fit, even though it was supposed to be by the same manufacturer.

“I’m sure I could make them better than this,” I said in disgust, not necessarily meaning it.

“Mummy gonna make dowwy a dwess,” said Mima dancing around the room. I immediately cursed my own stupidity, why can’t I keep my mouth shut when the human tape recorder is about? “Can, I helwp, pwease Mummy.”

“Come on then, let’s see if I have any material.” I went and got my sewing basket, and bag of assorted bits. I’d collected them to make some patchwork cushion covers and never got round to it; this was when I was still living in my bedsit.

I pulled out the material on the table and considered three lots were potentially useful for this purpose. “Mima, you choose which pattern you like.”

“Dis one,” she said pointing at one which had tiny roses on it. It was probably the most suitable.

“Be a good girl and get the dresses that dolly has now so I can see the sort of styles they have.”

She got down off the chair and dashed into the lounge where all her doll’s clothes were. Moments later she was back with a great pile, which she shoved on my lap.

“I don’t want all this, darling, just the dresses. There were three, so took them out and sent her back with the rest. “Here, put these back where you keep them, and put them tidy–don’t run, please.”

It made not a wit of difference, she flew in and back, she had obviously just chucked the stuff and come straight back. “I hope you put them tidy, like I asked you to do. Did you?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded as she spoke, “Yes, Mummy.”

“So if I was to go and check, I’d see how tidy they were, because if you are telling me fibs, I’m going to be very cross and not make your dolly a new dress.”

She gave me a very serious look, obviously worried. I made to get up and she leapt off the chair and rushed into the lounge. Stella smirked and shook her head. Then two minutes later I went to check, she was still busy putting things tidy. “Oh, you’re tidying up her wardrobe?”

“Yes Mummy, I fibbed, is you cwoss?”

“I don’t like you telling me fibs, but because you put things right, I’ll let you off this once. Assuming you are genuinely sorry.”

“Yes, I’m vewwy sowwy,” she hugged my legs and cried for a moment or two, before I picked her up and dried her tears. I was trying to teach her it isn’t right to tell lies, so a few tears might reinforce that message.

I grabbed a pad and we measured her doll and I then measured one of the dresses. Then I drew round the dress and extended the measurements a fraction, too much and the thing would be like a tent, too little and it still wouldn’t fit.

I made our pattern from these sketches and tried bits against the doll. It didn’t seem too bad. So next I pinned and cut out the material, then tacked it together. We’d been at it over an hour. Stella came in with a cup of tea for me and a juice for Mima.

I tried on the tacked dress and it didn’t look too bad, Mima was delighted. So for the next half an hour, I hand sewed it all, putting on tiny popper studs down the back of the thing. I gave it to Mima to try, partly because I wanted her to be able to do it, and partly because I had my fingers crossed under the table.

She fitted dolly’s arms into the sleeves and they fitted. So far so good. Then she concentrated quite hard, her tongue sticking out as she did some of the poppers up. The first time she mismatched them, so I told her to do the top and then the bottom one first. Which she did, finally after a minute or more, she clicked the last popper together and held up the doll with her new dress. Okay, it wasn’t as good as the shop bought ones, but it fitted better. I would try and make her another over the next couple of evenings, with a few more embellishments, like a belt or mock buttons, or even some tiny sequins.

“What do you say?” I reminded her.

“Fank you, Mummy,” she gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek and rushed off to show Simon her new doll’s dress. I put the pattern safe and cleared the bits and pieces. Time to get lunch, what is they say about women’s work? I’m so glad this is a holiday.