The A-Z segmented story: Part I (as in the letter not the Roman numeral.)
In which some further sandwiches and mess occur.
In the house, Claire lowers her little guest to the sofa.
‘Half a sandwich wasn’t quite enough lunch for me: more cheese for you?’ She walks through to the kitchen, opens the fridge; hears an enthusiastic ‘Ah!’
‘More cheese it is.’ Four slices of wholewheat make a square of squares on the wooden chopping board.
Slices of cheese are pressed onto dots of butter.
‘We’ll eat in now. Don’t share yours with the cat this time, or the floor. I’ll put some water in a cup. Can you use a cup? I have seen things like cups, I think, for little ones, with lids and spouts.’
The child resumes its original solemn faced stare.
‘Well, we’ll soon find out, eh?’ Claire brings the slender feast to the front room on a tin tray.
The cup of water is taken in two chubby hands. Most of it seems to be washing the child’s neck.
‘Ahh!’ Lips are smacked. Claire concludes that enough liquid has been consumed.
‘Good work, kid,’ she admires. She sits adjacent on the sofa, puts a plate on each lap.
‘Nom nom sandwich.’
‘Yeah, the dogs like sandwiches too.’
Eating and drinking go much the same for the child; some goes inside, much is used as decoration.
‘You look like an action painting,’ Claire tells it.
Child looks at her, watches her eat. It holds a triangle of sandwich up to show her.
‘Cheese for you,’ Claire explains, ‘Cheese and lettuce for me. We’ll be more serious about the diet tomorrow, eh?’
‘Nom nom.’ The displayed triangle is swiped over the face.
‘Action painting,’ Claire repeats. ‘It’s a bit revolting, to be honest.’ She smiles. ‘But I pick up poo, right? I’m not squeamish, lucky for you. Lucky for me too, since I’m trying to eat a sandwich.’
On the child’s plate is a rejected squeeze of dough.
‘Enough for you?’ Claire asks. Her guest sighs, leans back on a cushion. ‘Are you tired?’
Half closed eyes answer. With one further sigh, the child curls onto its side and is completely asleep.
‘Oh,’ Claire says.