Joined at the hip

Slurping Life
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We bimble home from school with our pal, a mutual pal of both my boys. This is one of the great advantages of combined grades of some special education classes, the overlap of friendships and oodles of common ground amongst different age groups and abilities. They all grow older, better able to articulate their preferences, which run the gamut. A combination of sweet innocence and advanced sophistication.

My sons sit either side of their pal, three in a line. They both mimic their pal’s distinctive voice, intonation, emphasis and terminology, with perfection. The phrase ‘oh my god’ has recently slipped into his vocabulary, as it does with so many children. Whilst we also had this for a while too, careful actions by school and home alike, has caused extinction. I would prefer it not to return. They paw over the book and discuss favourites, their first favourite, their second favourite ad infinitum. Amused, delighted and engaged during the journey. My daughter points out the snow on the mountains. My daughter points out the child with a bunny ear head band. My daughter points out the skate boarder pulled by a dog. There is no end to the list of entertainment outside the car but the boys concentrate upon their indoor choice, as three pairs of feet kick to the same rhythm.
“Oh my god. That Coral snake bit off her finger.”
“Oh my goodness!” I squawk from the driver’s seat.
“Oh my god. That Asian cobra bit his arm.”
“Oh my goodness!” I repeat in the hope of penetration as my driving concentration dwindles. With each remark my boys howl with laughter.
“Look over there guys! D’ya see that kid has a heart balloon,” offers my daughter in a loud and enthusiastic tone.
No-one else looks. I give her a quick beam.
“Oh my god! That Fierce snake bit his finger.”
“Oh my goodness!” I need to think of another strategy. This is pointless but at least the car remains in the correct lane.
“Hey guys! Look over there! It’s an aeroplane with a message banner.” She’s relentless in her attempts to distract whilst I concentrate on the road.
“Maybe you could be a teacher or a therapist when you’re older dear?”
“No way mom! I’m gonna be a dog walker.”
“!”
“I spose we can’t make em stop kickin either,” she adds wanely.
“At least they’re all happy as clams.”
“Oh my god! That Reticulated Python bit his face.”
“Oh my goodness!”
“I can’t quite make it out…….it’s too far away…..can you drive a bit faster mom so I can try and read it?”
“Oh my god! That Massassauga snake bit his horse.”
“Oh my goodness! Too much traffic dear and I think it’s going the wrong way.”
“Oh my god! That Asian Pit viper bit her wrist.”
“Oh my goodness! You certainly know your body parts young man.”
“Hey guys. Look over there. That guy’s sellin roses. Hundred of em.”
“Oh my god. That Bushmaster bit that girl.”
“Oh my goodness! How can you tell it’s a girl?”
“Coz…………. of the sexy legs.”
My daughter and I lock eye balls before she splutters, “he sure told you!”


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A den of vipers [England is Evil 13]

He stops dead in front of the gate before taking up a horizontal position on the ground.
“What’s up love?”
“Nuffink.”
“Don’t you want to come down to the beach?”
“Nope.”
He sounds calm but you never can tell.
“You can’t stay there love, people will trip over you.”
“I am wait.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“For everyone to be coming.”

I lean against the fence to watch the rest of our party descend the windy path. I look over at the busful of school children who have also come to admire fossils. We were careful not to make promises, as Ammonites are few and far between. They are content to know that they are ‘rare types.’ Once again I am grateful that ‘Pokemon speak’ helps us translate so accurately.

“BEE Wah EE is mean danger?”
“Er…..yes! It’s pronounced ‘beware.’ So……?” He gives me ‘the look,’ the look that says ‘idiot, isn’t it obvious!’ He sighs but does not belittle my tiny brain, “dah sign it say ‘beware.’”

I look around for the sign, a sign, any sign. “Ooo! Right! It’s says ‘beware adders,’ well spotted, but there’s nothing to worry about dear really.”
“I no worry, I safe.”
“Ah……well…..adders are very shy creatures, you don’t have to be scared.”
“I not creature. Not scared neever.”

His nonchalance changes to outrage. I suffer another dose of ‘the look.’

“I be a boy not a creature, I be a adder not a scaredy cat!”
“Oh….. er………?”
Dey are not adder peoples,” he explains as he points at the rest of his family down on the beach. How I love the new “rude” pointy fingers on limp arms, a skill expressed in youthful “toddlers,” that comes later for some other people. “I am an adder people,” he points at his chest with a serious expression, “so I am wait here….by dah sign……safe……”

Can’t argue with the logic. Thank goodness I can still do long division.

I should like to take this opportunity to thank “Miss Nelson” from “Meaningful Outcomes” for pointing me in this direction over the weekend, bound to come in useful assuming I can find my “bookmark” again!

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