Alien

It’s that look.
You know?
The polite one.
Watching him potter in his own happy world, completely unaware.
The something’s not right here one.
Glassy-eyed. Hitched-on smile. Invisible wall of keeping my distance.
This child’s not normal.
How do I protect him against that?
Will he remain blissfully oblivious?
How can I defend my own, strangle-held heart.

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Summer Growth…?

We collided in the bathroom, he and I, both blurry-eyed, jagged-haired, warm and smelling of sleep.

“When are we going to go into your bedroom with my brothers and say ‘happy birthday’?”

“Any minute now.”

He gave me a bashful smile. Seven years old. So big… 😉

And he stood before the mirror and gasped.

With genuine surprise.

“Mummy… I’m taller!”

Too Much Mars!

He came out of playgroup as full o’ beans as he went in, Tiggered all the way home, and collapsed on the sofa.

“Can I watch a film?”

“Okay, sweetie.”

A Disney (almost unavoidable), the music began, opening credits rolled and the fairytale castle appeared.

As I walked away, his little voice announced, laden with excitement:

“MISSILES!”

“No, darling…

…Fireworks.”