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!”


A poet in the making?

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!”

Age:Innocence Ratio

We stood in the playground before school; his head, now past my shoulder, tilted up to my face.

“Do you think kisses can get through woolly hats?”

His look was penetrating, testing, hopeful, innocent – all mixed up into one searching gaze.

“Sweetheart, I think kisses can get through iron bars as long as the love behind them is strong enough.”

Vivre pour l’instant

We charged out of the front door, minutes from the school bell.

“Stop!” I hollered.

Four small boys stopped.

“Take just a minute and copy me.”

The rain-damp ground glistened and the fresh morning air sparkled.

I closed my eyes and breathed it deeply through my nostrils, straight into my lungs; smiled.

Four small boys copied.

And on we went.

A Thought for Today.

Wise words:

“Noone is without faults. That is not a truth that should create undue stress or shame… If we can admit our faults with humility, good things can happen. If we make excuses for our flaws and think we’re perfect, we not only miss the growth potential in life’s lessons, we also fail to accept facts at face value.”

Taken from Dr Les Carter’s Enough About You, Let’s Talk About Me.

More Toddler Wisdom

He whisked my three-year old away to make a “surprise” birthday card for me.

“I drawed you a tank, Mummy!”

I digress.

The conversation, apparently, went thus:

“Bertie, what are you going to be when you grow up? Are you going to be an artist?”

He was met with scorn.


A pitying look.

“…I’m gonna be a big boy!