So, yep, not quite at the potty training stage yet:) Henry is talking up a storm right now. It is as though our whole lives are being narrated by a toddler.
"Car, beep, beep" , "want it", "have it" etc. Eliot is really practicing his blinking:)
Just to end on a little poo-poo note, our day began as a sewage truck parked in front of our house to suck up overflowing plumbing. The boys were quick to watch said poo-poo truck until it pulled away waving, "bye, bye, poo - poo truck".
2 comments:
Hi Rach ~ any new poems these days?
For a five year old (by Fleur Adcock)
A snail is climbing up the window-sill
Into your room, after a night of rain.
You call me in to see and I explain
That it would be unkind to leave it there:
It might crawl to the floor; we must take care
That no one squashes it. You understand,
And carry it outside, with careful hand,
To eat a daffodil.
I see, then, that a kind of faith prevails:
Your gentleness is moulded still by words
From me, who have trapped mice and shot wild birds,
Your closest relatives and who purveyed
The harshest kind of truth to many another,
But that is how things are: I am your mother,
And we are kind to snails.
So sweet, Chris. I love that one:) NO, nothing in the pipes right now. I gotta go and take myself out for a bit.
How're things with you?
R
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