It doesn't happen often.
But every now and then, my week’s a bit uneventful and I am a bit stumped for something to write about.
That happened this week. I pondered writing about a Year 2 boy I encountered through the week. This golden haired boy with the smile of a cherub had cuts all over his face, specifically near his ears, his chin and above his lip.
I asked him if his cat had pounced on his face.
"No," he said.
I asked him if it was a dog.
I asked him what tree he had fallen into.
"None," he said. "I shaved."
I tried to hold it in, but I couldn't help but laugh and encouraged by the outburst, he told me he wanted to shave his eyebrows too. I told him that wasn't such a good plan, and imagined the cuts extending to his forehead region.
I do like a good laugh.
Like my grand daughter telling me that she no longer uses plastic cutlery.
"I use the glass cutlery," she said.
And this on an afternoon after I pick her up from Prep. I ask her what she learned at school every pick up and her answer is standard.
"Absolutely nothing," she says.
This is the daughter of my son who threatened to run away from home at about the same age. He packed his bags and stepped out onto the veranda, clearly contemplating which way to go. He stood there undecided for a long time (ours is a dead end street, so there is only way to turn) and when we came out to check on him, he said he was going to give us one more chance and went inside.
I too planned the big runaway at a similar age. My friend and I had it all figured out, even down to the moustache disguises in case we were recognised by police (who would clearly be launching a huge manhunt for us). I imagined our posters everywhere, so we both wore green and brown clothing to camouflage with the trees. I had been saving my pocket money and had at least 20 cents and I took a knife out of the kitchen drawer (not a glass one though) for protection and for spreading honey.
Sometimes things have a habit of coming back. Oh and sometimes there's even a column in the little funny things in life.