DIARY OF A PERPETUAL BACHELOR

The little girl with all the moves

Some kids are mature beyond their age, and can be quite manipulating

In Summary

• Bachelor has a wild crush on his neighbour but can't get pesky kid out of the way

Image: SHUTTERSTOCK

Diary,

Remember that eight-year-old neighbour’s daughter who wanted me to wait until she was 20 so I could be her knight in shining armour and sweep her off her feet? Well, I invited her into my house because she had a really hot mother. And I mean hot. Beats me how I hadn’t noticed her before.

Once they were in my house, I made us some cocoa (I had to, since that was my guise to lure them in). My bachelor instincts were riding high, and my mind was already working on how we would get rid of the girl so I would have time with her mother. It was too late to give her some money and send her to the shop. Didn’t she have homework or something? Or dolls to go play with?

Little did I know how things would totally fly out of my control. The little girl (Mandy was her name) insisted that her mother and me sit in the living room while she served us.

I looked at the mother. “Can she?”

She smiled proudly. “She’s very handy in the kitchen.”

Somehow, Mandy managed to find a tray, cups and a kettle, and 10 minutes later, she was pouring us tea. She served herself a cup and sat across from us.

“I’m eight years old,” she said, “nine years in 10 months. If we’re to get married when I’m 20, that gives you…” She calculated on her fingers. “Eleven years and 10 months to get some things in order.”

“What?” My eyes almost pop out of their sockets.

“Your kitchen is blue. You’ll have to paint it pink like ours. And the cabinets are too high for me.”

Her mum laughed. “But you’ll have grown taller, won’t you?”

“You’re encouraging her?” I said. “She should be talking about doll houses and jumping rope. Or school.”

“She’s an A student and well above her class. She’s only playing.”

“I’m not!” Mandy shot to her feet. “You just want him for yourself. Like you did with Jeff.” She stormed out.

“Who’s Jeff?” I asked, mortified.

“Koinange, the TV guy. She was her idol, then one day he came to my job and I took a selfie with him.”

I was sad for Mandy, then I thought, “She’s gone! Now I can make my move on her mother.”

But she, too, stood up. “I have to go make sure she’s okay.”

Now I thought, “Good move, Mandy. You win.”