Tag Archives: is this my fault?

My Son is a Monty Python Sketch

“Alright, Big Brother. While Little Brother’s having a nap, I’m going to go have a shower.”

“Okay.”

“You stay out here and do your colouring in.”

“Okay. I’ll just come in if I need to go to the toilet.”

“Sure. Do you need to go to the toilet?”

“No.”

“Okay. Then you stay here, and just come in if you need to go to the toilet.”

“Or if Little Brother starts crying.”

“Okay.”

“Or if I want to show you my colouring.”

“No. Please don’t come in if you want to show me your colouring. I’ll be back soon. You just stay here and do your colouring, and only come in if you need to go to the toilet, or if you’re hurt, or if Little Brother is crying. Okay?”

“Okay. Or if I want to check on you.”

“No. Don’t come in and check on me.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Because… Look, I’m just going to have a shower. You stay here. Don’t come in unless you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going now.”

“Where are you going?”

“With you.”

“Wha- Why??”

“Because I love you.”

“… But… You… We…” Sigh. “I love you, too. But I’m going to have a shower.”

“Yes.”

“So, you stay here and do your colouring.”

“Oh. Okay. But what happens if Little Brother wakes up and he starts crying because he wants to know where you are?”

Pause. Deep breaths.

“Look, I won’t be long. If Little Brother is crying, come and tell me.”

“Or if I need you.”

“Yes. If you need me. But not if you just want to ask me something, and not if you just want to show me something, and not if you just want to check on me, and not if you want to say you love me, and not if you remember a joke you want to tell me. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll just come in if I need to go to the toilet or if I’m thirsty.”

More deep breaths.

Are you thirsty?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Pause.

“Are you going in the shower now?”

—-

I have this conversation more often than I really care to admit. Does it sound familiar to anyone else?

How about now?

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A Different Memory

There’s a war memorial in a park near where we live. There’s a paved area surrounded by a beautiful little garden and some park benches. There’s a plaque with the names of soldiers who served and those who died and there’s a series of statues.

In the centre of the paved area there are two statues of soldiers. They look young and brave, but they’re leaning against each other as though they need the support. Sitting on one of the benches are two more statues, these ones of an elderly lady and a young boy. They are looking towards the soldiers, the child pointing at them and the old woman leaning down to talk to him.

We’ve driven past the memorial countless times over the last couple of years, but it clearly hasn’t registered with Big Brother before now. A few days ago we were driving past it and he said, “There are statues over there.”

There was a moment’s pause. Then, “And there are two more statues sitting down! Why are those statues there?”

“Well…” I began, flipping through conversation ideas in my head. Do I start with the word ‘memorial’? Or do I start with the war? Or soldiers? Do I talk about how his grandfathers were both soldiers? Or say the statues are there as a celebration of bravery?

I didn’t even have a chance to speak. In the seven and a half seconds I’d been thinking, Big Brother had figured it out.

“Oh,” he said, his eyes wide and his expression serious.

“The White Witch was here.”

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