WHY YOU DON'T RUN

Dear Mummy,

Only a couple of days ago, I overheard you say to your friend Ms N, that "running is against my religion, except for maybe when my kids do a suicidal run through a carpark or near a road or something".

Well I thought I'd test this theory yesterday after we left Ollie's ECD school.

After having a fun time with the play group we made our way back to the carpark.  While you were unlocking the car, getting ready to bundle us into our seats, I saw a small window of opportunity and I didn't hesitate.  My little legs started to quiver with excitement as I escaped from your grasp and scampered away from the car, back into the school grounds and disappeared around the corner of a building.  Laughing hysterically, I glanced over my shoulder and saw you and Ollie in hot pursuit.  You still weren't running but you were definitely advancing upon me.

For a moment there, we lost sight of each other but I heard you gaining momentum as you started to pick up the pace.  You still weren't running but you had commenced a sort of clumsy jog.  I giggled as you had to overtake Ollie with all the grace of a side-stepping footballer, nearly being forced to leap frog him as he got in the way.

I had practically lapped the whole building by the time you got closer and then that's when it happened.  The moment you realised I was heading back into the carpark and onto the road, true to your word, you started to run. 

Mummy, you've always chuckled at the way I race around, leading with my tummy, squinting with my eyes and throwing my head back.  I don't know why, because after seeing your attempt, I think my way is much more effective.  I finally witnessed your running style when I caught a glimpse of you over my shoulder.  You appeared to be running whilst leaning too far forward.  Your head was way out in front and your legs were oddly, a long way behind you and trying desperately to catch up.  I stopped in my tracks to turn and gape in awe, as your legs and arms suddenly sprawled and flailed haphazardly as you crashed to the ground, face-planting the cement, like you were sliding into 'first' on a baseball field.  You might want to check, but I think you left half of your skin behind on that rough concrete.  I also wouldn't be too concerned that the group of grade two students, who witnessed your fantastical stunt, will be scarred for life, as although it wasn't a pretty sight, it was pretty funny.

Dazed and confused you somehow managed to recover and drag yourself slowly to your feet.  I've never seen that look on your face before.  I know when you're being a funny angry but this glare emitting from you, was the glower from a homicidal maniac.  This did not encourage me to return to you, so with a nervous smirk, I took off again.

Under your command, Ollie, who had then caught up to me, was given permission to reprimand me and take me into custody by grabbing my shirt and holding on for dear life.  Despite my protests, I couldn't escape from his clutches.

Mummy, I do hope you'll forgive me one day, when your wounds have healed, your skin grows back, when you're able to walk without wincing in pain and when your dignity returns.

I'm sorry.  I just wanted to find out why you say you don't run.

Now I know why.

Love Linc xoxo

 

THE PICK

Dear Mummy,

I don't know why you're so opposed to me sticking my finger up my nose.

You look exasperated each time I wedge it up there and I can't understand why you become so embarrassed when I show off my talented move to other people you know.  If anything, it's now become a great game to play with you.  Lately I've taken to hiding under the blankets or concealing myself behind chairs, just to see how long I can insert my pointer finger up my nostril before you promptly command me to withdraw it.

I keep informing you that there's a bug up there but for some reason you continually insist I use one of those futile white tissue things to blow the bug out instead.  As I find my own appendage of the hand a much more effective way of digging the bug out, I fail to understand why we have to waste time using those flimsy fabrics.

Also, as you're aware, I love playing games on your phone and I've recently discovered that my favourite app now allows me to send both you and Daddy, and Grandma and Grandpa thirty second video messages.  I've since realised that this the only way that I can have a really good dig around, without being interrupted.   I'm certain that, after viewing these randomly sent videos and watching my skills develop, you will concur, that driving my finger around, inside my nose, is the best method and an extremely effective way to to retrieve those bugs.

Love Ollie xoxo

PLAY DOUGH: FAIL

Dear Mummy,

Today when you decided to make some homemade play dough, I became quite excited.  As I'm anticipating the imminent arrival of my little, out of town friend to come and stay with us for the next few days, I concurred that showing off my sculpting abilities would be a perfect way for us to bond.

I must say though Mummy, the end result of what you created was a colossal failure and something that you should never attempt to repeat again.

Although the texture of the play dough was fairly impressive I don't know what you were thinking when you decided on the colour.  You basically concocted a massive lump of camel's dung. Seriously, who makes brown play dough?


According to you, it was originally intended to be a beautiful blue mixture which would have been suitable for three small boys.  Mummy, you know I get my colours confused sometimes, but all joking aside, I know what blue should look like ... and that was not even close.

I think your first mistake was not finding any blue food colouring.  Your second blunder was deciding to become a dodgy scientist.  When you combined yellow with green and it became a horrible sickly lime colour, your patience evaporated.  You then appeared to reason with yourself that by hastily adding red, it would turn a magical purple colour.  Well that theory drowned in a gooey glob of intense murky hues.  Adding more  of green and yellow did not help the situation at all and culminated in that preposterous, unappealing, lump of poo-coloured play dough.

I'm certain you can appreciate why I was not particularly thrilled by this foreign substance.  If anything, I think you should be proud I expressed caution around something like that. Grandma even tried, in vain, to entice me to play with it by making a poo person out of it.

I was not impressed.

Finally, when I worked up the courage to touch it, the mixture was still warm.  I'm still surprised that you and Grandma looked so shocked that I suddenly ran around the house yelling out, "Hot poo! Hot poo!" over and over again.

I'm just glad Linc didn't have to witness this abomination.

Please dispose of the horrible substance immediately.  I recommend the 'full' flush.

Love Ollie xoxo

A LONELY SHOPPING EXPEDITION

Dear Mummy,

On the weekend, when you had that rare opportunity to drive away by yourself, to go shopping, we hope you didn't feel too discarded.  Linc and I were very impressed at how brave you were as you attempted to support a look of sheer happiness.  You deceptively disguised yourself with elation and even managed to appear ecstatic as you waved an enthusiastic goodbye to us.  However, the jig's up Mummy.  We knew this charade was only for our benefit and sensed you weeping on the inside because you had to venture out alone and leave us behind.

We're certain you missed our company in the car and commiserate that your trip was extremely lonely and uneventful.  You had no-one to kick the back of your car seat while you drove.  There would've been no water bottle spills to clean up and no-one to entertain you with our car seat wrestling skills.  We still don't understand how you got by without being able to shout out your funny reoccurring threats to 'stop the car' if our decibel levels didn't drop or if our rowdy behaviour didn't improve dramatically.

We fear your shopping expedition was also rather destitute.  When you returned you assured Daddy that your trip was peaceful and glorious, but we know better.  It makes us sad to think that you would've been desolate, wandering aimlessly around the shops, with too much time on your hands.  Normally we help you keep a great pace, running aisles ahead, darting in and out of clothing racks and hiding around corners.  On some occasions you confine us to the trolley, but this time you would've had no-one to sit on the sausages or the tomatoes to ensure they didn't jump out and escape.   Also, as your memory is waning a little, we're a bit distraught that you had no-one to remind you, via screaming tantrums, to buy those 'chupa chups' that you keep walking past.

It sounds as though you frequented numerous shops too.  You poor thing.  When we normally go, we only have to manage one or two stops at the most.  How dreadful it must have been to have to go to all those different places, lonesome and forlorn, without us.  We bet you wish you had our help then too.  Maybe you wouldn't have been gone for so long.

Although you courageously boasted of relaxation and achieving peace and harmony when you returned hours later, we know you were just trying to be strong for us.  Don't worry Mummy, we wont allow that to happen again and you wont have to go anywhere without us from now on. 

Whilst we felt good helping Daddy in the yard, we were overcome with guilt for abandoning you in your desperate time of need.  Please forgive us.

Love Ollie and Linc xoxo