"Why?" I asked.
Miss 5 replied "Because I'm walking like a penguin."
Oh. Of course you are. How could I not realise that?
The other day we were literally just about to walk out the door when Master 3 dropped to the ground in the lounge room.
"What is it?" I said.
"My legs aren't working."
"Yes they are, up you get."
"No, they're really not, my legs, they're not working." *flails legs around whilst lying on the floor*
"We have to go. Now. Stop being silly and up you hop."
"But they're reeeeeally not working."
So over I go. Pick him up. Put him on his feet. Look at him. And say "Wow. There you go. They're working again. Off we go."
You really can never be prepared for what a child may say or do at any given moment in time.
Everything could be going along swimmingly, friends over, out to lunch, at the shops, at the museum, wherever, with whoever, in a perfectly normal setting and kids behaving "normally".
Until.
Until something.
Until something completely random. And/or inappropriate.
And it is usually at that point that you wish for a car to inadvertently crash through a building on the other side of the road, therein making everyone else look away so you can run, kids in tow, away from everyone.
Now I know you want examples. I will give you but a few, which as per usual I may have already shared, but then again I may not have. Lucky dip for you. For me, well, I obviously have no recollection of whether I have shared it or not so it's new for me no matter what. Bonus. Just like going out with friends and you behave in a manner which can be described as less than flattering to yourself, and potentially embarrassing to your friend, however if you have no memory of said occasion then seriously, well, tis no skin off your nose then is it….
So on many occasions we have been places and the kids have piped up with a question. Directed at me. About someone else. Who is standing right there. "What's he doing?" "It's a she." "But he has short hair and a beard." "It's a she." *runs*
And the ever famous "He's got texta all over him."
I think now Master 3 knows what tattoos are.
I really love it when we are leaving a store, after paying, and Miss 4 yells out "But mum, you haven't PAID for these things yet." I love it. I really do. Truly.
I also love it when I swing a DVD case whilst talking as I am an arm talker and I inadvertently knock Master 3's fingers which makes him cry, I instantly hug him and apologise and just keep squishing him tight because I feel so bad, and for the next three days he keeps saying "You hit me with the 'tainer." Love it. No. Really.
God only knows what these kids say at school and daycare. Truly. I'll have DOCS rocking up on my doorstep for poking needles into their ears. Or cleaning them. Whichever you think is the more appropriate description.
I do love a kid's perspective on the world though. I really do.
I love how everything can be made better with a hug.
I love how even the mention of dessert sends smiles a thousand times wider.
I love how the thought of a trip to the park makes eyebrows raise.
I love how the actual visit to the park is not always a way in which I, as parent, am tortured. The good trips, well, I could relive those a million times over. And they are becoming more and more common, those good trips, as the kids get that bit older.
And you know what? They are good kids. They really are just good kids.
I have done my best to raise them with morals and values and good manners. And you know what? Time for a pat on the back. I'm doing a bloody good job.
So there you go.
I might just leave it there I think.
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