You’ve changed…
You used to be reliable, I knew you would come and there you were, bang on seven o clock every single night of the week.
You would arrive and calm would descend upon the madness of my home. Silence would fill the space where children had been seen to battle and the soft scent of peace and quiet would dance round the lounge.
Daybreak murkily starts to edge its way into the room, tendrils of fog tap at the window telling me morning has begun. For a moment I lay silent in my …
The time is nearly upon us, it is time for my children to shine.
In less than a week they will be called upon to make me proud and I am fearful they may not be up to the task.
In recent years I have slightly misled my children. Avoiding the whole conversation about where babies come from and how they actually trundle down the birth canal has always been a focus of mine and he who helped create them.
When BB was born, twin girl was full of awkward questions but was easily fulfilled by a quick glimpse of the bandage on my stomach and was happily comforted in the knowledge that babies were simply lifted from your tummy and then a doctor glued you together again.
Someone asked me today if my daughter was handicapped.
They didn’t ask if I was having a nice day or even say good morning, they merely approached me in the shop and asked the question “Is she handicapped?”