Indifferent

When the English dance, you know they’re drunk.

Yesterday, I took the boys to town to do a bit of shopping. As it was bank holiday, there were multicultural dances. One particular interesting group was the Turkish all-male dancers and musicians. The music was great; very upbeat. I started to jiggle as soon as they started. But when I looked around me, nobody even dared to move an elbow or sway a bit of hip or shoulder! Everybody was as stiff as a lamppost, tight lipped as ever and glum looking like a typical English weather. After about 10 minutes, the band stopped playing and announced that they would love everybody to dance with them. The crowd then dispersed like they were just about to smell and hear a musical fart.

What’s more, Zak declared, Let’s go home mummy. I don’t like it!

Before the sheep took over the picnic,

they basked in the glorious afternoon sun.

He's certainly afraid of the dark

I've been a little bit obsessed with parenting books lately and somehow, I realized that one of these days I would have to face the dreaded bit of parent-child conversation: sex education.

This afternoon, situation called for me to slowly introduce the topic. I was resting in bed while little Lewis was having a nap in his cot. Zak then took the opportunity to have a chat with me. He obviously noticed my flabby postpartum belly and attempted to shove the bits back in the hope that his little hands could do a wondrous miracle of flattening my stomach. Anyway, I explained to him that when he was a baby, he lived inside my belly and came out through a hole (naturally, the hole was my belly button).

Him: Was it dark in there, mummy?

Me: Yeah.

Him: Did I bring a torch?