Daisy and the Trouble with Life (12 page)

That's the
trouble with boxers
. Black eyes are definitely their own fault.

Unless, I suppose, you're a boxer who's walked into a lamp post, with a kaleidoscope.

Anyway, Mum said Fiona Tucker was a very lucky girl, because if she'd taken my kaleidoscope to the seaside, she might have walked off a cliff with it and fallen miles down into the sea or onto the rocks. Then she'd have had a lot more than a black eye. She'd have had two black eyes at least.

And anyway, Fiona's dad said he'd buy me a new one. But he hasn't yet.

But he said he would.

. . .

Sometimes, like for instance when I've been told off, I wish I had a dad.

Trouble is, I haven't.

. . .

My dad is dead.

. . .

Because he died.

When I was little.

The
trouble with not having a dad because he died when you were little
is sometimes I wonder what he was like.

Mum says my dad was the best dad in the world, but he would still have told me off if I'd been naughty.

I suppose he definitely would have told me off if I'd eaten a germy dib-dab.

But I can't remember.

That's the
trouble with not being little any more
. You can't remember.

. . .

However hard you try, you just can't remember.

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

And your clothes stop fitting.

Apart from your socks, 'cos socks are stretchy.

The
trouble with growing
is your favourite clothes don't grow with you.

A year ago, my favourite yellow T-shirt used to come down right over my belly button, but it doesn't any more. Neither does my disco top with the stars on.

Mum says I'll be borrowing her clothes soon!

Another
trouble with growing
is the saddle on your bike won't go up any higher either. Gabby got a new bike for her last birthday so her legs look normal when she rides.

My legs look silly on my bike because my knees go too high when I turn the pedals. So I don't ride my bike much any more.

My mum got some spanners out of the garage last week and tried to make my saddle go right up as high as it would go, but when she pulled the saddle up, it came right off the bike! Then it took us ages to get it back on. So now I just leave my bike in the garage.

Mum says if I'm good, I can have a new second-hand bike for my next birthday.

Trouble is, my birthday isn't for three whole months.

Last year I got a remote control car for my birthday. It was white.

To start off with.

The
trouble with remote control cars
is they don't do as they are told.

If you try and make them go one way, they go the other, plus if you drive them through muddy puddles, they conk out.

Mum says I shouldn't have driven my car through a puddle. She says it makes the battery wet. That's the
trouble with batteries
. They don't like getting wet.

When I brought my car indoors, she said, “OH DAISY, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? YOU'VE ONLY HAD IT TWO MINUTES! IT'S A CAR, DAISY, NOT A HOVERCRAFT. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING OF?”

I said submarines.

Mum said, “GO AND FETCH THE PAPER TOWELS.”

After we dried the battery, it still didn't work, so Mum said she would take it back to the shop and complain.

So she did. But that didn't work either because the man behind the counter didn't believe what Mum said.

PUDDLES! WHAT PUDDLES?” said my mum. “This car hasn't been anywhere near a puddle! IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN OUT OF DOORS!”

The man said we must have a very swampy carpet because when he opened the boot and shook it, dirty water came out all over his jumper.

I don't do remote control driving any more. I just do parking. Which isn't anywhere near as much fun.

Luckily, Gabby says I can have lots of fun on her new bike, as long as I promise not to fall off and bend the wheels. Or drink all the drink in her drinks bottle. Trouble is, she puts orange squash in her drinks bottle, which is one of my favourite drinks in the whole wide world.

Hold on, I can smell sausages . . . sausages are my favourite meat in the world!

Back in a minute . . .

I was right! It's sausages for tea. With mashed potato, gravy and corn on the cob! If I'm well enough, Mum says I can have some when they're ready, but only if I'm feeling totally better.

Actually I really do feel much better! And hungrier! No gurgles, or anything. I really really think the dib-dab germs might have gone away.

Mmmmmmm . . . there's only one way to be really really sure though . . .

I'll do a hundred Howzatcowpats on the sofa . . .

Start counting . . . Now! . . . I'll let you know how I get on.

200 bounces! 101 Howzatcowpats!!

And I didn't even want to run to the loo once!

No gurgles either!