1999: Playschool this morning and lots more diarrhoea. Aunty Karen told Mummy that Agal has Cryptosporidium (or words to that effect) so when I did a poo in my trousers tonight, for once mummy was pleased and proceeded to scoop it into a pot like some sort of trophy. Didn’t eat any tea but had a lovely bath and milk. I fell over and hurt my thumb and went up to mummy and said, “excuse me doctor, but I’ve hurt my thumb”. Very cute. I wanted Al tonight but mummy said he has gone away. “But I want him”. Oh well. I was okay though. I fell asleep with Po, milk and Postman Pat on the video.
1999: Little did we know the days of poop scooping would not be left behind forever unlike the days of video technology. Mum still says she is going to ‘tape’ things rather than record and refers to CDs as records! At least I can comprehend this unlike the wonder at how they ever coped without mobile phones, text, face book, insta ……Talking of which a memory has just popped up from 5 years ago when mum met me at the bike shop for an early Christmas present as my list included “money on your credit card for leathers” At least they protected me for a while but didn’t stop me blowing my bike up.
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