Marisa’s New Year message

Goodness me! Life is flashing past so quickly these days I completely forgot about my article that I give to Uncle Peter each year. Of course, he’s not my ‘real’ uncle because Dad can’t nod his head the way Uncle Peter does, so they’re not real brothers, but he’s always nice to me, so I haven’t done the screaming thing in his office.
Actually, now that I’m almost three, I am enjoying living out the ‘terrible twos’ because people expect you to play up, and can I ever play up to an audience these days. Mum says I get it from my Dad, but I’ve seen his efforts on Pattaya Mail TV, and he’s nothing compared to me. The other evening I flung Mum’s watch at least 10 meters, which is probably an ‘age’ Olympic record. Amateur watch throwing could catch on, I tell you.
2006 was an interesting year, watching my little brother Evan grow up. He’s gone from being a blubbering blob on the bed to quite a good landing mat during my sofa jumping practice. There is only one problem, and that is the fact that he’s almost the same size as me now and has a vice-like grip. I don’t know what Mum is feeding him, but he certainly isn’t fading away to a shadow. Quite the reverse.
He really is a monster. He pulled my hair, despite some well aimed kicks at his crotch, but I suppose since he’s still in nappies that cushioned the blows somewhat. (I know that when I’ve dealt one of my famous karate kicks to Dad in that region he stops doing what he was doing and starts crawling on all fours and making strange mewling noises.)
However, I’m really getting in front of myself here. Let me bring you up to date on what has been happening. I turned two in March, on exactly the same day that I turned one the year before! I’m not quite sure how that works, but no doubt someone will let me in on the information some time soon. It is amazing just how much parents withhold from their children. There should be a law against it, and if this were Australia or the UK, there would undoubtedly be one. Mum and Dad should just remember how lucky they are. Firstly, they have me, and secondly, there’s no laws in Thailand covering this withholding of information from minors.
I changed school this year too. The old place got new teachers and I reckon they got them from the Klong Toey House of Correction. I certainly didn’t learn anything, other than sit in the corner and make no noise! Mum found this new place next to the Coca Cola factory, but unfortunately they don’t come over the fence and bring us free samples. Anyway, I prefer Pepsi as when Dad and I go to Lotus after I get out of school and have dinner at the Pizza Company, I wash it all down with Pepsi! Dad can keep his fancy wines at dinners with his mate Ranjith from the Royal Cliff and the odd glass he has with Louis Noll up at Mata Hari (I’ve been there, and I know what he gets up to). No, a pizza and Pepsi does me.
During the year, Evan started walking. While Mum and Dad went all gooey at this, it didn’t do much for me, I can tell you. Everything had to be moved to the top shelves where even I can’t reach, thanks to him. Before then I could easily sneak some of Mum’s perfume, though I have to say it really doesn’t taste all that good. Great smell, lousy taste.
My Aunty Nancy in America bought me a book called “I’m a Big Sister Now”. Big deal! As if I had some say in the situation. If I had’ve, I’d still be an only child, I tell you. “Share with your brother,” is Mum’s catch-cry all damn day and night. Share with the giant toad! He steals everything of mine and when I gently retrieve what was mine to begin with he yells so loud that Mum comes rushing in with the “Share with your brother” routine. He’s going to get his just desserts I can tell you, and it isn’t blueberry pie, either!
Of course I do get the opportunity to get my own back at Mum. I learned this from a couple of the older girls at school. When out shopping, just lie on the floor of the supermarket and start wailing. If Mum picks me up and comforts me and gives me whatever I have decided I want, then I stop. But if I don’t get it - she gets it! 120 decibels of ear-piercing shriek with floods of tears down the face. Everyone stops and looks at her and you can see what they’re thinking. “Poor little girl, what did that woman do to her?” Embarrass them a couple of times like that and you have them eating out of your hand. Easy! Mind you, I have to say that Dad isn’t that easy. He’s not what you’d call the strong silent type. More like the swift hand across the bottom type.
Talking about bottoms, I’ve managed to perfect what Dad calls the “funny bottom noise”. I can let one rip any time I like these days. Forget about the brewers horse. I can do better. Dad can’t say much either, as I’ve heard him at night, though he’d deny it I’m sure. That’s the thing you see, parents think we kids don’t know anything. We do, and we store the knowledge to be used later, when it embarrasses them the most.
Anyway, I’m looking forward to being three and getting a watch, my own lipstick and eye shadow and perfume, so that I don’t have to share with Mum. It’s been a year of sharing, and I’m tired of it.
See you next year. Love, Marisa.