Yesterday, Guthlac told a highly colourful story about a duck, a time machine and a packet of maltesers. Or something.
Strange the things children say - yesterday in the park, while I was walking my daughter to school, I overheard the following:
"No Kieran, you can't skim your bag over the pond"
"But I want to hit a duck!"
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8 comments:
Is it the story about the duck called Pete, who travels forward in time and discovers that children are being force fed malteasers because malteasers have been found to prevent tooth-decay? I tried that story on my Dad as well . . .
Sx
Ms Blue - Clearly you went to the same secret daughter school as my own 10-year old.
The question is, dod your Dad go to the same secret Dad school as I did? The one where you learn to emerge from the dust-cloud and wreckage of a failed DIY job with the words "I think that went rather well!"
YES!!!! How did you know that?!!!!
Sx
Do you think I get my excellent imagination from my Dad then?
Maybe neither your family nor mine are as eccentric as people imagine.
A vignette that indicates very well my relationship with my daughter: She lost a tooth yesterday, and though too old for genuine belief in the tooth fairy, still left the tooth out in hopes of claiming the money.
Being short of suitable coinage, I wrote her an IOU and signed it "love, The Tooth Fairy", which I then used to replace the tooth.
Oh, Gyppo, this gets worse.
You have to walk through a park with a pond to get to the school: is the uniform grey and gold? Is it a faith school? Does the name ...... Mrs Jones mean anything? If yes, then the two youngest Pouncers were there, and one of them would've coincided with your 10-year-old, just. (Actually, even if no, the two youngest Pouncers went there. It's like that other thing; the thing everyone's mother says, ie "If that's you, then you left the tap running all morning". And you want to say "what if it isn't me? What's the tap been doing then, hmm?"
Is the uniform grey and gold?
Yes.
Is it a faith school?
Yes.
Does the name ...... Mrs Jones mean anything?
Yes, she's the headteacher.
Our lives seem curiously yet distantly entangled. Every time I wander through the shopping centre now I find myself looking sidelong at people thinking "Is that Mrs Pouncer?"
That 6'7" black rastafarian with the headphones, perhaps? Or one of the children playing on the equipment under the strange sail/sunshade thingy? Or the respectable lady at the Waitrose deli counter?
There's probably some hideous video game which involves skimming satchels at ducks.
Perhaps Mrs Pouncer is Mrs Jones, the Headteacher!
Now there's a thought, Gadjo. I shall look out for a twinkle in said Mrs Jones's eye next time I see her.
It's just as well I've always got on well with her on the relatively rare occasions we've spoken. She's a fantastic head teacher, whether or not she's Mrs Pouncer.
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