The Centre of the Universe

Godfather Pete arrives. He informs us that, until around the nine month mark, babies believe that everything that they see – from daddy to a bus to the moon in the sky – is a part of them. That they are, in short, the whole universe and the universe is them.

This fascinating fact immediately clarifies two things:

1. It explains Isobella’s Take Take Take attitude over this past four months. Four months in which she has yet to wash a dish, do a little grocery shopping or even offer to put the hoover round. And;

2. People are divided into two distinct subsections: Those who, after nine months, accept that they were wrong and are not, after all, the centre of the universe, and get on with being a small part of the universe, rubbing along nicely with all the other little parts of the universe. And those who, upon hearing the LIE that they are NOT the centre of the universe spend the rest of their days trying to right that terrible wrong, drawing attention to themselves and generally being an egomaniacal, sociopathic mess. Which category do I fall into? Well, I’m writing a blog, aren’t I? And like all bloggers, I am a high-ranking officer in the latter camp.