Evil...And Proud Of It

The 15 minutes between my six year old boy and my older girls being released from their classrooms is a nightmare. Particularly since having the baby. I wonder aimlessly around the playground followed by a string of five and six year old girls. I'm like the pied piper. Not an adult in sight as I'm a newbie and they rarely speak to me.

I took shelter in the pagoda today armed with a Charlie Brooker book and tried to be dismissive as endless little girls prodded and poked my newborn daughter in her pram, relentless with their daft repetitive questions.
Over the past few weeks, one child in particular has been annoying me. She is one of those children that always has a green slug hanging from her nose and has yet to learn volume control. I was irked when she pushed me out of the way, lunged threateningly into the pram and woke up the sleeping baby that had taken me hours to pacify. My son told me her name was Georgia. The same girl that had been annoying him in class and calling him names. Most of the surrounding children ran out of the pagoda and Georgia remained alone. Two other mums were huddled together gossiping but were out of my earshot. Georgia's dad called over, reminding her that it was time to go home. Before she left, she leaned close to me and whispered..."How did she come out of you?" I was considering ignoring her but just couldn't help myself...

"I had to squeeze her really hard out of my vagina...Go and ask your Dad, he will explain."