Conversations with K, or how to become dippier by the day.
Here for your delight are a sample of conversations with my lovely daughter this week All included in this blog to demonstrate why I have arrived at the current mental state of being slightly Gaga, round the bend, or two cans short of a six pack.
K enters the room where I am trying to watch the latest escapades on Big Brother.
“Mum, after we have been to the hairdressers on Saturday, can we go to Halifax?”
Me. “Why?” innocent and perfectly reasonable question considering that normally after a two hour stunt spent in the hairdressers without any food K is usually anxious to high tail it to the nearest McDonalds for a fill up.
Me sounding rather reluctant. “We’ll see.”
“Or we could go on Friday!” K ventures as an alternative suggestion.
“Why what day is it out?”
K enters room where I am busy at the keyboard (that makes a change!)
“Mum, will you spell me ‘hostectomy’ ?????? (She means hysterectomy, all because she hates being a woman, and plans to ask our doctor if she can have everything removed, either next time we are in the surgery, or alternatively once I have kicked the bucket, whichever comes sooner.) and also oterus?” (uterus) Hmm, she must be putting all this down in her daily diary I thought to myself.
As I wrote the spellings down on the scrap of paper that she presented to me, I couldn’t help thinking its a good job that I didn’t set up that Space for her to use on Windows Live! And here I must add that K thinks I am some sort of walking Encyclopaedia with knowledge about everything under the sun including an added spelling ability to rival any dictionary, unlike my two son’s who would rather die first before asking me or consulting me about anything at all.
This Morning 08.15am.
K arrives at my side and promptly thrusts her camera in front of my face which shows in its display a rather large spider crawling up a wall.
“What sort of spider is this Mum?” (add to my necessary repertoire being a naturalist as well as everything else)
Me horrified and ready to launch myself out of my computer chair and grab the nearest broom, cloth, etc to kill said dangerous looking spider with, “ whereabouts is it? Is it in your bedroom?”
“No, its not in my bedroom! Its a spider from ‘Jungle to Jungle’! You are silly Mum!” “Why do spiders have three eyes?” ?????
“I don’t know! ” I answer, trying to recover my normal heart rate from the previous shock of thinking my daughter had a resident Tarantula in her bedroom. “I think they have far more than three eyes! All the better to see you in triplicate I suppose!” (If you don’t know the answer to one of K’s numerous enquiries then make a blind stab at it is my philosophy.)
And that’s it folks for now. Well, until the next enquiry……