Wednesday, 18 December 2013

We Found Him In The Bra-Fitting Room.

Confession: I'm scared of Rocco. Mostly when we're out in society, where ANYTHING can happen and often does. He's run off more times than I can count. You know when you lose your kid, and you look around and your palms get sweaty and you scream their name and you just KNOW that you'll never see them again and you'll be on the six'o'clock news? Yeah. I've lost count of the amount of times Rocco has done that to me. Probably about 30? 40? He's a runner. He shaves years off my life but he also saves my life, with those blue eyes and baby hands, blonde hair and beautifully crazy wild imagination.

We traded in Cams car yesterday to pick up the new car and I didn't want to let Cams go. I cleaned everything out, heavy-hearted .... but left the almonds in. I liked sitting where Cam sat, my backbone where his backbone used to be. Felt like he was giving me a hug.

So we're at the car dealership and Rocco gets bored and starts weaving himself in and out of the cars, climbing under them commando style, getting filthy. I kept losing him and panicking. You know when you're in public and you don't want people to know you're losing your shit with your kids? I bent down low to his face and told him to come and get in the car right NOW, in my best cat-strangled voice. He did. Then announced to us and the car dealer that he needed to do a poo.

The other day we needed to go shopping for a nice shirt for Max's year six formal. Max and I were in the changing rooms going through them and then .... surprise surprise, Rocco had done the bolt. The amount of times I've been in a shopping centre screaming out his name.

"Rocco. Rocco. ROCCO!!!"

"I'm in here mum, quick!"

I ran to his voice to find he was in the bra-fiting rooming. Of course.

"Mum I'm doing my exercise. Take a photo."

Jesus help us all when this guy hits adolescence.

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