After five years, she finally packed her stuff. Not that she has much. A few dresses. Half a dozen tights. Tops. Socks. Jackets. Knickers. Vests. Shoes. They all fitted in her small holdall. She seemed excited at the prospect of leaving,
The other morning I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth and Tamms was in there taking a susu. I didn’t think I needed to knock. She’s five for crying out loud, it’s not like she would be shaving.
Question. What would you do if someone held down your kid’s head in a swimming pool? Another question? What if that someone in question is another kid? Like about your kid’s age (5/6), only fatter?
Towards the close of last term, my “lito” girl’s school organized a Father’s Forum thingamajig. The school invites you for these school shindigs by placing cards between the pages of The Diary. The Diary is this small book that acts like a medium of communication between parents and teachers.
He tells me he punishes his son by sending him to the “Naughty Corner.” He’s 5. The son, that is. Naughty Corner. I turned that phrase over in my head, like you would an idea you haven’t quite warmed up to.
My sister thinks my daughter looks like me now more than ever. So does my mom, and the missus, and my mechanic. And that cat who came to fix the instant hot shower- the one who I wished hadn’t removed his shoes.