On her second snow day… Neil: It’s a blizzard. Isla: I don’t see a lizard. It’s snow, Daddy. On love… Isla: I love you, Mumma. Don’t ever change. Me: *just over here on the floor* On snacks… Isla was picking through a bag of gum-drops after lunch. ‘Hmm. I think Nana ate all the good ones.’ On her mother’s artistic abilities… Me: It’s a butterfly. Isla: It’s a heart with a line in it. Me: Well, you and me went…
Isla talks non-stop. Not her fault, she’s my kid. Sometimes, I post our conversations on Facebook. What follows is a collection of actual conversations with my three year-old daughter. All of these are unprompted. She has my sarcastic genes. Isla: Mumma, you’re cheeky. And you’re also kind of cute. Me: Day made? Isla on Hallowe’en… ‘Mumma, we got a pumpkin.’ ‘You’re MY pumpkin.’ ‘I know dat. But we got a real one from the shops.’ Isla on the rules… Me:…
The closest I get to any kind of interior design is watching re-runs of Designing Women. Because I am an old, nostalgic, sarcastic soul. What I am not, is a very visual person. I’ve moved house A LOT in my life, and my stock answer to ‘Where do you want this?’ is ‘Gimme all the books.’ When my friends and family move or redecorate I sit in the corner reading the old newspapers Aunt Dolly’s dinner set is wrapped in,…
Isla: Mum, you ran OVER my Bugles! (We have graduated from Mummy/Mumma to plain Mum when she’s pissed at me.) Me: I’m sorry, does that really um, grind your gears? Isla: What? Me: Never mind. Sometime later… Isla: I’m still hungry. Me: I’ll fix you a plate. You better eat what I give you. (Ham, grapes that I thought were olives, and raspberries.) Me, again: Isla, c’mere and get your deconstructed sandwich. Isla: That’s not a sandwich. Me: Hence the…
