Carol’s Column

For the father who has everything

THIS is for those of you who might have problems deciding what to get the man in your life for Father’s Day today.

Big Momma has hit town. And it’s not a moment too soon.

I first heard of her while breakfasting with my happy little family last week. We were experiencing a little family togetherness.

“Nicky, you can’t put peanut butter on scrambled eggs.”

“Will someone please pass the cereal.”

“That’s gross.”

“This kipper’s still alive.”

“Will someone please pass the cereal.”

“Stop slurping your porridge through your teeth.”

“Will someone please pass the cereal.”

“Yukkk.”

“Will someone please pass the cereal.”

“Good heavens,” said my husband, “next Sunday is Father’s Day.”

“Will someone please pass the cereal.”

“Hmm, fancy it being Father’s Day next Sunday.”

“I think Dad was hinting,” said my youngest unmarried daughter later.

“Of course he was,” agreed Jamie. “He did the same last year. Don’t you remember, he sent himself 23 Father’s Day cards and a singing telegram. Dad’s always subtle.”

It was then that my two older sons phoned from Cape Town. “Ma”, said Ralph, “there’s a fantastic new device on the market called Big Momma, it’s just the thing for Dad for Father’s Day.”

I was fascinated to learn that Big Momma was life-size, made of a synthetic material resembling skin, came in its own custom-built carrying case for easy storage and was available in all races. Furthermore, all her parts were interchangeable. You could choose a blonde or brunette, short-legged or long-legged, buxom or skinny model, depending on your preference.

So lifelike was Big Momma, that she was even better than the original article. According to my oldest son she blinked, smiled, spoke, looked and felt real.

“Ma, she can cook, wash-up, make beds, school sandwiches. She can do everything you do and she never gets a headache or gets tired,” he said enthusiastically.

Lucky Big Momma, I thought to myself.

“Furthermore,” added Ralph, “she’s on batteries and can be recharged when she runs down.”

Lucky, lucky Big Momma.

I was all for getting something original like toeless socks, an inverted beermug or a fancy pair of embroidered lace underpants.

“Nah,” said the kids in unison, “let’s go for Big Momma.”

I must admit, I was intrigued. Imagine being able to take a break now and then while Big Momma stood in for me. She could clear the drains, defrost the motor car, put rat poison down for the snails, rewire the roof, scratch backs, knit a sweater for the cat and do all those things that somehow never get done.

It was tempting.

Which is why this morning I am hiding in the closet while the kids pop Big Momma next to their father who is blissfully slumbering on our slow-leak water bed under the 100 percent pure chicken down duvet.

A fearsome sound shakes the house. It is the children singing Happy Father’s Day to their father, who snores in tune.

Suddenly I hear a grunt and then a giggle. This is followed by a loud, smacking sound. There is a feminine titter and I hear my spouse say: “Honey, you look great, like a new woman. You’ve never looked better.”

Big Momma giggles again, faster. Her battery is obviously fully charged. A thought crosses my mind.

This could become a permanent arrangement.

And happy Father’s Day to you too.

■