Saturday, 2 February 2013

First Graffiti

"Mummy, look what I've done..." There was pride tinged with anxiety in the voice.  It's a tone I know well.   It translates roughly as, 'I'm ever so excited about the thing that's just happened, but I have the teensiest tiniest suspicion that you may not share my enthusiasm for it.'

I had asked Gertie to wait by the car for a moment as we were getting ready to leave the house this morning.  In those few seconds, what she had produced, technically, was her first piece of graffiti.  In case you can't quite make it out, it reads, 'I *heart* charlie xx *heart*.

Charlie is, like Gertie, five years old. He is one of four boyfriends, she tells me with a blush.  Graffiti and polygamy.  Can't wait for the teenage years.

No comments about the state of the car, please.  It's been very, very wet here.


  1. That's how it starts you know. Petty crimes like vandalism and fare jumping. That's how these sad tales always start...ending at Parchman Farm or ...Bronzefield?

    Poor Gertie...Poor Hearth Mother.

    With all those suitors she should at least be well supplied with parcels of candy and juice boxes.

    1. Bronzefield? You have done some homework (or some time). What a happy future you paint for my dearest firstborn!

    2. Google makes it pretty easy.

      It's just projection...I'm worried that my wife is headed to Parchman if the Boy calls her annoying again like he did yesterday.