An Ode to Three

three of heartsI don’t remember the ‘threenage’ years all that clearly with JJ although I was plunged into the newborn juggle at that point and I’m pretty sure there were some testing times! Just lately I have had the pleasure pain of a full re-introduction to just what the age of three can bring to the unsuspecting parent. One minute you’re minding your own business, going about the old routine, the clothes, the breakfast cereal, the inevitable choice of Cbeebies brain freeze, when bam! Out of the blue, displeasure, defiance and downright dissention rear their ugly heads.

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The unanswerable questions of parenthood…

How do you stop the flashing of a flashing shoe?
Why does Father Christmas need a chimney flue?

How is Postman Pat considered to be employable?
Why is posting peanuts in the Xbox so enjoyable?

Where exactly *do* all the dummies go?
Why does school run traffic have to be so slow?

What is it with Mr Tumble and spots?
When’s the best time to transition out of cots?

Why are childcare experts all child-free?
Whatever possessed me to buy a cream settee?

What’s the record length for a game of I Spy?
Why mummy, why mummy, why mummy why?

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Out, out brief candle…

out out brief candle

This is an excerpt from one of my favourite Shakespearean speeches. I’m not sure why I love this so much as it is really quite depressing! Essentially, for anyone not familiar with Macbeth, this is the speech given by Macbeth after his wife goes mad and dies. He is grieving and pondering the nature and meaning of human life:

She should have died hereafter
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

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Are rules meant to be broken?

Breaking rules

Last week I wrote a post called ‘True Adventures’ in which I came to the realisation that I am risk averse. This week I saw Sara’s prompt “Rules are meant to be broken” and my immediate thought was to nod in agreement – after all no one can disagree that rule breakers are rebels – embodying all that is cool and sexy. So how does that fit with being risk averse? Oh, it doesn’t.

I am suddenly reminded of the time in my teens when I decided I wanted to become a goth. Unfortunately black lipstick, raven tresses and head to foot black clothing looked a bit out of place on someone listening to Phil Collins…:-/ (for shame!)

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If I had more time…

speeding time

If I had more time I would follow my nose
to a land exotic to my eyes,
bask in the glory of reading for hours,
lie on beaches, take in shows.

If I had more time I would go for a run,
I would go for a cycle, join a club,
learn how to crochet, bake like Berry,
learn how to switch off and have more fun.

If I had more time I would make a plan,
map the future, pinpoint the route,
take a scenic drive to my destination,
waymark the journey through my whole life’s span.

If I had more time I’d become green-fingered,
cultivate roses and honeysuckle,
watch things grow like a stop-motion movie,
enjoy my hard work, potter and linger.

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