This expression is forever immortalised in the relationship between my brother and me. My Aunt, card-carrying, flag-waving member of the Brain Trust, always begs him for a "window into his world" when she speaks to him on the phone. I suppose she feels like there needs to be some conversational equity as she opens windows, nay, large french doors into her world all the time - telling my brother about the spontaneous sex she had with her socially inept, oddball boyfriend (or as she put it, "I can tell you, he was most appreciative"), musing at length on her favourite brand of enema, and most harmlessly, the latest bargains scored at Salvation Army.
My window is not so scandalous nor repellent. It may, perhaps, be just as uninvited, but this is a cross you will have to bear.
I had a moment of epiphany the other night in which I was preparing lunch for the next day, chicken hummus wraps. I was spreading sea salt and black pepper hummus on some garlic and coriander wraps, tearing up some fresh spinach, and listening to Folk Alley. I was blissfully in touch with my earth mother side, a facet of me that is always trying to peek out, but is often beaten down by the highly strung, consumerist working mother which dominates.
Now, this is a bit like invasion of the blog snatchers, but I'm going to tell you how to make these delicious wraps. I feel the need to share the wealth because these fuckers are culinary heaven. It's not a recipe as such, since you just adjust the quantities based on the number of people you're preparing them for. Sometimes I make four (2 for me, 2 for The Dude), but the past few times I've had to make 6-8 as various colleagues were salivating over the mere sight of them.
All you need is some cooked chicken, tortillas, fresh spinach (or other greens), dash of pepper, the hummus of your choice, and some chili oil. Spread the hummus on the wraps, add the spinach and chicken, and sprinkle on the pepper. The chili oil is best applied right before eating, and a little goes a long way. It makes a very good, healthy, and low-GI lunch. TRY IT.
Ahem. Leaving my Nigellaness aside, this window must include a glimpse of my insane child. As mentioned previously, P has an awareness of bodily functions and I encourage this. It is obvious that I would like her to deal with these situations in a polite way, hence the encouragement of "pardon". I dread her being one of those obnoxious kids who burp and fart and think it's absolutely hilarious. I have The Dude under strict instructions to not laugh when she farts, even if she says (and no doubt she does), "I fot". Now we have connected farting and the bum, so occasionally we are treated to "I fot fum bum", in case we were not aware of the origin of a fart. She often grabs her bum at the same time, to further illustrate this very scientific occurrence. The other day we were sitting on the sofa together and she farted. The little minx looked at me and said, "Mum did a fot." I can assure you, I did no such thing. Full of wind and deceptive, this toddler of mine.
She knows where she can find the bum of her Mama (regardless of its flatness), and the bum of her Dad. We were in the supermarket the other day and as I was pushing the trolley along she pulled up my shirt and shouted, "MUM'S BUM! MUM'S BUM!" I tried desperately to simultaneously pull down my top, push the trolley, and shush her, but she carried on for half an aisle, "MUM'S BUM! MUM'S BUM!" I despair that as I have taught her the word "vulva" (or, in P speak, "bulba"), this could lead to many an embarrassing social situation.
Poo and wee are of course an interest as well, with the highlight of a recent park visit the sight of a dog pooping. For the next day there was much babbling of "Doggie. Park. Pooping." My mum asked her what she saw in the park, and I think you know what she said. The memories of 45 solid minutes of playground equipment time, running down pigeons and offering them a toy car, or playing football with her Dad evaporated. It's all about poop.
Lest there be a body fluid or gross physical occurrence which hasn't received attention, P has recently discovered boogies, or as they refer to them here "bogies". I have no idea where she picked up (HA!) this word, but she now has verbal accompaniment to her near constant nose-picking. I couldn't get her out of her car seat today because her finger was so far up her nose that I couldn't get the strap from around her arm. She looked at me, furrowed her brow, and said thoughtfully, "Hmmm...bogies".
So there is my window, no doubt smeared with snot and saliva. Charming.