Since the beginning of the school holidays the Wombi’s been hanging around mainly. The tiredness and the laziness they have an equal Share in their violence. The Wombi, this is only right, it is a joy to be a hostage of your needs. “Let me, I’m on holiday,” she says, when I’m around 11 am of the opinion that it stand up would be the time. On particularly hot days, the Wombi moved in the dark, cool cellar, in the optimal conditions, the inertia added to this type. Always at your side: your Chihuahua, Ruby.
Christiane Tauzher: The Pubertäterin
Since puberty, our daughter, the mosquito, shortly after her 13. Birthday in your violence has got, we keep the Windows closed so the neighbors call the police. The Pubertäterin is not loud and unpredictable, when she sleeps, just like a Wombat, or eat – what you do for luck often.
The stories I tell – a journalist, 41, from Vienna, married to Olaf, a 46 – here, not act, of course, the Pubertäterin in my family. No. They come from my thriving imagination or come from other families. There, it is arg in the other families … 😉
The white puppy are in the habit of doing what the Wombi does. Since the Wombi is not doing much, hanging around the little Ruby most of the time. To the body of the Wombi nestled, asleep, you live your young dog. While their conspecifics sniffing out the world, in the stream and each other, bark at, dozing, the little Ruby in solidarity with its owner through the summer. She sighs even as the Wombi and yawns at least as often. Food, you could also constantly. Unfortunately, she has the misfortune to be not much larger than a half of a hare, and are thus often of the Wombi forget. Especially if the Wombi is the fridge to wash out Aiden. Then the puppy is her don’t give a shit, she takes it not true, as it dances to their feet under the table adorable Despair to the back of the legs and the Arms go bye-Bye-movements – up and down, up and down the white Arms that are longer than two cotton swab to go then.
food, Insta, Snapchat and then again not, that’s it
But if the Wombi makes one, two, or three Sandwiches, also Snapchat and Insta checked out, she needs all her strength to put up against your hostage taker “laziness” and “fatigue”, at least for the duration of the food intake to the military. I then say: “Your dog is hungry!”, I get to the answer: “The are always hungry!” I say: “Give him something, he is poor,” she says: “the Same!” or, “He’s got something.” You can rely never, never, never, because the Wombi has no sense of time. It may be that you fed the puppy the day before yesterday for the last Time, and it appears that it had been ten minutes ago.
Always, when I see the dog dance, I him his dwarf bowl with a thimble of meat and it is every Time very grateful that I’m still there. Shortly after the Wombi has filled the belly, it needs to rest again to recover from the rigors, it seems your body and. And the small Ruby rises behind her to the basement stairs.
C. Tauzher: The Pubertäterin the protection of the environment with a lot of cling film: such As the teenage girl on the planet in My life want decided to rescue plan: working in the garden,
I, the Wombi simple tasks, to allocate the Faulitis, which had latched on to her, to eradicate. I started with something easy to a how I found the optimal time, namely, after the second sleeping unit. “Would you be so kind and …”, I began. “Waaaaas wiiiiiillst Duuuuu schooon wieeeeeeder vooooon miiiiir?”, bleated at me the Wombi. I had interrupted you just when you Inspect the refrigerator. “It would be great if you could in the front yard, the leaves calculation and the ton of throw. Otherwise, I can’t mow the lawn and because it is so dry, I can Wombi … ” “Am I now to blame, that it has not rained? And as punishment, I shall now play the gardener?” Sigh, Eye Roll, Shake Of The Head. The small Ruby sighed and yawned, to your wife was absolutely right.
Our front yard is a garden. The workload was manageable. “I beg of you,” I said, very friendly. The Wombi found it to be “total arg”, that you’ll be compelled to work during the holidays””. “It would be a great help to me,” I said. The Wombi was not scolding, that was not true and that I wanted to employ only artificially, and that I would be sooo predictable. Yes, she is a smart kid. “No,” said I, “I determined. I just need your help.”
C. Tauzher: The Pubertäterin The teenage girl Roger. Almost everything must go. First of all, your mother is happy, but then … “don’t Do this, the street sweepers?”
Before the Wombi went out, she stood long at the window to the small front garden view. “Don’t do this, the street sweepers?”, you then asked. “Uh,” I said and stood next to it in the window. “Do you see that behind the fence?”, I asked. The Wombi nodded. “That,” I said, “this is the street. There, the street sweeper sweep. The front of the fence in our front yard is types. Because the street sweeper does not come down, because in between the garden gate is to have the only we have a key.”
and More of Christiane Tauzher
“I’ll say it now for the very last Time! Stories from the nearly perfect life of a mother”, by Christiane Tauzher, Goldegg Verlag, 14,95 Euro
to wait, As the Wombi suggested to put a chair to the fence, walked up a street sweeper to let him in, chased the I from the house and pulled the rake in the hands. The Wombi complained, even before the first pile was done, on knee, back and joint pain. Three piles brought you. Then she almost broke down and dragged back into the basement. In the Moment, a Wind came and blew the leaves in all directions. “I told you that I want you to do the leaves in the bin,” I said. “You haven’t been” scolded the Wombi. “Yes, I have,” I reassured her. “And how do I know how to do this?”, the Wombi asked me. “You want to know how you transported sheets in a ton?”, I said. “No,” replied the Wombi, “I don’t want to know at all. But you want me to know, even though you know I can’t know.” My head was buzzing.
The little dog pranced. I filled his bowl and wished the Wombi have a good night – it was 17 PM. Then I went to the rake. The Wombi was the last I saw on this day. What I heard, though still long, was the derisive Laughter of their captors.
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