Despite the fact that his father is CEO of a multi-million dollar corporation with thousands of employees and offices around the world, 18 month-old Milo already has a tight weekly schedule, a personal assistant and a month-to-view diary that is so packed it makes daddy look positively idle. Milo’s first class began 2 weeks after his departure from the American Hospital with ‘Massage for mummies’. Unfortunately his skin did not take to the oil his mother had selected despite its promise of totally organic ingredients sourced from fair trade countries. Several full body rashes and some red-faced screamathons later and Milo was removed from the group.
This unfortunate reaction did little to dent his mother’s determination: a year later, had any of his classes actually awarded some sort of certificate, Milo would now be considered the most qualified toddler on the planet. He is chauffeured up and down Jumeirah Beach road in a 4x4 with heavily tinted windows, his car seat taking up a tiny percentage of the vast leather backseat, visiting the various clubs, hotels and private houses that will play host to Milo’s ‘enrichment’. The week starts with Sing-along Sundays, where Milo’s ‘PA’ does her best to overcome the language barrier (mummy was never very good at singing, so outsources this class) and dances along with her charge. Milo’s happy and he knows it and obligingly claps his hands. The following days fly by with ‘Silent Bonding’ (sign language classes), Pamper Percussion, Terrifikids, Cuisine aux Enfants, Discodivers (swimming to music) and finally KinderKicks, a class that infuses the art of kick-boxing with the basics of the German language, while Mozart breezes through the padded room. All of this activity washes over the wide-eyed Milo who, although generally a very amiable child, would be equally happy chewing on a straw and staring out of the window. By the end of the week he is exhausted and yet his PA is lucky enough to hear his first words as she tucks him into bed that night: Gute nacht Mama.