The busy weekday morning was in full swing. Rushing to have breakfast, make lunches, get kids clothes ready, bags packed, have shower, feed cat, do hair and makeup - you know, the usual type of thing.
Add in there a few of the usual ‘orders’ I am yelling out while I’m getting myself ready... ‘hurry up and brush your teeth’, ‘have you put your diary in your school bag?’, ‘can you put your shoes on’, ‘can you turn the TV off?’, ‘leave the cat alone’, ‘take your bowl to the kitchen’, ‘leave your brother alone!’ and various other ‘daily’ rituals and there you have a ‘normal’ weekday morning. At home.
In the car, it’s a different kettle of fish. Usually it’s a fight to get through the garage door first to put their bags in the boot. Then it’s a fight to get into the car first.
When everyone is strapped in, it’s automatic pilot for the next few minutes in traffic and dare I say it - some peaceful quiet time...
Usually whichever way I decide to go, there’s a cry from the back seat saying, ‘Mum, go that way for a change’. I can just predict when this is going to be said, and I time it. It puts a smile on my face.
It’s funny how when we’re in the car, I seem to be the ‘expert’ in all things related to cars. The questions range from, ‘Mum, would a Toyota beat a Lamborghini?’ I say, ‘no, definitely a Lamborghini would beat a Toyota.’ Then there’s silence. Obviously happy with that answer.
The next question is, ‘Mum, would a Ferrari beat a Subaru WRX?’. I’m quick to answer, ‘Gosh yes, the Ferrari would beat the Subaru hands down.’ Silence again as they mull over that thought. My little one joins in and asks, ‘Mum, would a sports car beat our car?’. I think for a minute and answer, ‘mmm, what kind of sports car?’. He answers, ‘a red one’. ‘Oh, well, it depends what the engine is like. Is it a V8?’ I ask seriously. ‘yes’ he answers. ‘Then yes, the red sports car will beat my car’.
This is all the usual conversation every day, I find it very cute that they trust my very limited knowledge on cars. Something I’m sure to treasure as the years roll on and they are the experts on cars.
After dropping my eldest son at school, my young son was contemplating something, as I could see his little face was thinking up something else to ask me.
‘Mum, you’re going to be a grandmother when I have a girl, then a boy, then a girl, then a boy.’
Well, I wasn’t expecting that! I am very reluctant to even insinuate that I find that funny for fear of him not wanting to continue the conversation, so I play along.
‘Oh,that sounds lovely. You’ll be married and a big man then won’t you?’
‘So, what will you call your first girl?’ I ask seriously.
‘I don’t know yet!’ he answered as if I should have known that it was a silly question. Silly Mum.I decide to push it even further.
‘What do you want to call your first boy?’. He didn’t have any hesitation in this, he said it would be the same as his name.
‘Oh, how lovely. That’s so lovely to hear,’ I said.
I thought it funny how he had no hesitation in knowing that he wanted to call his first born son his own name, but the girl’s name was completely out of the question to even contemplate at this time.
I was quite smug about this little conversation and filed it away in the ‘Too cute for words’ file in my mind for thinking of at a later date.
Find Gillian in a busy cafe or street, scoping the prospect of characters in her latest book.
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