We waited in line for school to begin.
He followed the number-snake, twisting through the playground, hollering the numbers as he galloped towards playgroup.
“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, THIRTY!” he shouted as he landed on the snake’s head.
“What rhymes with thirty, Bertie?” I enquired innocently.
(Can you see what I did there?)
He gave it a moment’s thought, before yelling…
… “EIGHT!”
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I LOVE these little snippets.
And won’t it be great to be able to look back on all these little captured moments.
It will – it’s a journal of young life. (And with my Capricorn Moon I have a shocking memory, so it’s doubly useful!)
Thank you, Susannah, for your open-hearted appreciation.
well doesn’t thirty rime with eight, he obviously has the same sense of riten ingerlish as i do. which is on a differing level to the majority of the population he is a real gem love him, and you all, loads
Annie, we love you too! xxx
Oh wonderful … and I’d forgotten all about number snakes! A definite poet in the making
)
Deborah, he’s a constant source of amusement… (and minor frustrations)