This is the account of a child left home alone when the parents leave the city owing to an emergency called “Need a break from the child! SO DO I! SO DO I”.
8 am: The entire house to myself. Nobody to tell me to bathe or spare the cat and find a caterpillar to dissect instead. Must sleep again.
8.34 am: Aborting attempt to sleep. Sleep’s a fickle companion.
8.36 am: Adrenaline rush. Plunging headfirst into unsupervised fun.
8.38 am: First, some nourishment.
8.42 am: Ah, pantry. A beautiful world spoiled by pickled garlic and memories of mother’s attempt at cooking. My advice to her? Don’t give up the day job.
8.44 am: Chocolates, marshmallows, crisps, soda.
8.50 am: Breakfast done. No discomfort yet. Father’s fear of junk food seems unsubstantiated.
9.01 am: Innards twist. Ow.
9.05 am: Vomiting accomplished. Conclusion? I’m all grace under pressure. Saw self in mirror – no frown, not even a cowlick to mar the reflection.
9.10 am: Time for TV. Or PlayStation. Or both. Caught between two stools. Time to write appeal to mother for extra TV.
9.20 am: Will watch news to enrich mind (madness without method is just madness).
9.30 am: Tired. Will sleep.
4 pm: Up. Hungry. Back to pantry.
4.01 pm: Mmm. Marshmallows.
4.02 pm: Just one. OK two. OK 49.
4.15 pm: Will I end up on and around the pot again? Will cross the bridge when I come to it.
4.30 pm: Pantry sullied beyond recognition. Must clean mess.
4.32 pm: Aborting clean-up. The odour isn’t that offensive anyway if I take fewer breaths/ minute.
4.40 pm: Nap time.
8.10 pm: Feeling abandoned. Parental cruelty is boundless.
8.11 pm: Parents return, so do the manacles of adult supervision.
8.15 pm: Can hear sobs as they survey pantry. Juvenile meltdown in response to mildly unsanitary conditions is a frailty worthy of investigation.
8.20 pm: Still upset about … mmm marshmallows. All’s forgiven.