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