No Gnoma, non puoi farmi questo!

Ho sopportato di tutto in questi ultimi 19 (+9) mesi della mia vita, di tutto. Ho superato grandi prove come quella del parto, quella delle notti insonni, quella della svomitazzata sul vestito da damigella e quella della corsa al pronto soccorso, ma questa non me la dovevi fare. 

WAAAAAAAAAAA dalla pediatra WAAAAAAAAAAAA

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buongiorno signori ma che bella bambina... che cos'ha?
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no niente mi scusi è che l'ha riconosciuta e non vuole essere visitata mi spiace...
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non piangere piccola Emma vieni qua che ti peso
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siamo quasi a 10 kg bene, ora ti misuro ok piccolina?
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bene 78 centimetri
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scusi ma secondo lei è 'na tappa?
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ma no è normalissima sono gli altri bambini che son tutti dei bestioni
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ah ok, meglio
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mangia tutto?
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sì, non è proprio una mangiona ma comunque è molto vispa quindi non ci preoccupiamo
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sì vedo....
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bene signori magari ci vediamo tra 6 o 7 mesi ok? la bambina è in splendida forma...
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ok grazie di tutto... sa... non è sempre così... è una bambina simpatica... è che si dev'essere ricordata l'ultima visita, quando le ha controllato la gola e...
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a-ha... ci vediamo tra 7 mesi
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ok, scusi ancora
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Di gnome bucate e mariti fregati

Va bene lo ammetto, Marito. L'ho fatto apposta. Ieri mattina quando abbiamo portato la gnoma a fare la sua ultima vaccinazione, la prima sul braccino, ho fatto apposta a lasciarla tra le tue braccia e ad allontanarmi con nonchalance quando le infermiere si sono avvicinate con la siringa. E altrettanto appositamente sono accorsa a consolare la povera gnoma bucata quando è scoppiata in quel pianto disperato. Mi ero rotta, ROTTA di essere associata ai suoi piccoli traumi da vaccino!

'starda

C'è una cosa che fa la gnoma che mi fa tanto ridere quanto imbestialire. Quando la suddetta scoppia a piangere tra le mie braccia per motivi a me ignoti, urla, contorcimenti e apnee si sprecano. La piccoletta diventa tutta rossa, strilla come se la stessero scuoiando e non c'è gesto, posizione, parolina dolce o minaccia che tenga. Di solito quando l'impressione è che stia per tirare le cuoia entra in scena Marito.

Ecco. Quando lui la prende in braccio cala il silenzio. La gnoma torna del suo colore naturale, i vicini smettono di digitare il numero dei carabinieri e Gatta rimanda i suoi piani di fuga a un altro giorno. Ma non è questo che mi manda in bestia. Anzi, sono la prima a gioire del fatto che la mia bambina stia bene.

E' quello che fa la gnoma subito dopo essersi calmata che mi irrita alquanto. Già perché la bastarda, poggiata sulla spalla di Marito, mi cerca con lo sguardo e mi fa un sorriso a 32 (immaginari) denti decisamente inquietante. Un sorriso che il dottor Lightman tradurrebbe in "Te l'ho fatta, stronza. Papino è mio".