I don’t often write about my little man, I guess I selfishly don’t really want to share him with the world.
I use my Facebook page to write down the funny things he has said. The time line means I know his exact age and time when he said it and at only three years old he has filled Facebook with a lot of love.
However, today this post is dedicated to the last 36hrs of our lives, as I never want to forget them. It began with a wonderful Brighton shopping trip with my amazing friend Lauren and my little man. We were being our usual silly selves when I saw my little man fall in love and knew (despite it not making any logical sense financially or practically) that we would have to buy the item.
He wore it with pride and throughout the day many people from shop assistants to people in the street commented how amazing it was, how it glistened in the light with one lady in Topshop saying in brought out his eyes. On the drive home from Brighton he chatted happily to his hat and plastic crocodile (J never goes very far without a plastic croc) and he told me that he was thirsty. From the driving seat I quickly multitasked and handed him a bottle of water and then got told off. It turned out that he wasn’t thirsty but that his fish hat was called Kirsty (you can see how my error was made).
I welcomed Kirsty into our home and began a discussion with a giant fish hat about all the lovely things we’d have for dinner, questioning in my adult mind where the hell he had got the name from?It transpires that Kirsty doesn’t eat mash potato or chicken goujons – nor baked beans or yoghurt…Kirsty only eats little fishes and polo’s (where the hell he has come across polos I also haven’t a clue – I’m a soft mint chick) anyway we took Kirsty home to Daddy’s dismay.
Since then Kirsty has slept with J, been by his side as a constant companion and even compromised her desire for polos and ate some of Js Cheerios at breakfast.
It turns out that Kirsty also (due to her hat hole) makes a very good hand bag. Whilst out for breakfast yesterday J noted that I have a very sparkly Clutch bag (life’s too short for practical black bags) and he has sparkly Kirsty. I showed him the content of my bag; lip gloss, purse, keys, phone and chewing gum and he showed me his contents; grubby muslin, plastic crocodile and a cuddly mouse. He then threw his ‘Kirsty’ under his arm pit and we strutted out of the restaurant, the way he mimicked how I hold my bag forever embedded in my memory.
Since the purchase of Kirsty (nobody dare call her a hat, the look you receive is deadly) she has bought much joy to all who meet her, I dare say she will be packed in his suitcase soon. I’m not sure how she will be received abroad? However, until she is cast aside Id like to thank her for reminding me that you can wear whatever you like if it makes you happy. For now though she sleeps closely by his side.