If you can't say anything nice…..

They are all in bed being tucked in for the night after a long and busy day. This is also the time to lay to rest any outstanding snaggles, so that peaceful rest may ensue.
“It dumb!” says my eldest boy with a limited word bank at the end of the day.
“What is dumb dear?”
“Doz fings.”
“Which things?”
“Todd Parr.” [Translation = the decorative 'transfers' on their wall]
“I didn't know you knew his name?” I mutter half rhetorically even though we have read all of those books more often that I care to recall.
“Yes.”

“Why don't you like them?”
“Dey are for babies.”
“Space things are for babies?”
“No!”
I look up at their walls, spaceships, stars and cheerful primary colours. Spouse is with Junior on his bed, on the other side of the room. All four of us look up to examine their walls. I calculate how many years this theme has been in place? Maybe 6 or 7? His birthday is imminent. He will be 8 years old.

I can just make out spouse's eyes in the gloom as he catches my glance and mutters “I don't think my salary will cover gold leaf!” [translation = Junior's favourite colour is “golden”]

For some reason I am a tad miffed. [translation = upset] I run a surreptious finger along his jaw line. Do I imagine that it is becoming more angular? That little pudgy face with six huge dimples, is just as soft but develops planes. His smooth brow, translucent skin with a tracery of blue veins is that of a boy, not a baby.
“What kind of decorations would you prefer dear?” I watch his liquid eyes retrieve words, but his little brother is too quick and answers for him, “tertiary! Not primary, not secondary! Big boys need tertiary colours like Lilac and “dusty rose!”

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