Wednesday, 19 December 2012


"Mum, look at my ball."

I turned around, expected him to be pointing at his testicles but he wasn't. It was his planet earth bouncy ball, his finger on the east coast of Australia.

"Here's where we are right NOW."

He then points to Iran.

"And see that? That is called Lollipopland. There's just heaps of lollipops there."

I love it when he just makes shit up. Told him I bet all the kids in Lollipopland would have to brush their teeth a lot. He nodded, sagely. Then asked if Santa will go from our house to India? I told him yes even though I *know* Santa doesn't visit slums, silly.

Last week he sat up in his own chair and chose my pedicure colour in return for being "good."

When you have a baby, that's the main thing anybody wants to know:

"Is he a good baby?" Over and over again. Ended up telling the strangers in post offices no, no he was a BAD baby. Drinking, smoking, up all night. They looked confused.

For five seconds I worried that the sickening shade of green would look ridiculous. Then I realised - who cares?

So grateful that when I get lost, a small boy with the whole world in his hands tells me where I am.

"Here's where you are right NOW, mum. Right now. See?"

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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