Small boy aged 6 is writing a love song for his mummy, me. As far as he is concerned I am the best Mummy in the world and I look like an angel. I only hope I can live up to that for as long as possible.
I don’t think children are aware of the effect their openness and sheer joy of life can have on jaded adults. How a smile from a little girl with chocolate covered fingers can make the sun come out from behind the clouds. Small boy aged 6 drove home waving at people out the window of my classic VW kombi. Watching faces tired from a long day light up and businessmen, taxi drivers, old ladies and harassed parents wave back, at first tentatively, like they can’t believe someone gas noticed them, and then exorbitantly with winks and peace signs and ululations! No matter how long, hard and difficult their days had been, the last thing they’d remember was a smiley faced small boy waving and shouting out, “Hello!” as he drove past.
That is why children are special. Their lights haven’t been dimmed by failed expectations and world weary cynicism. They experience the world good and bad in the most extreme way possible. They have no artifice, for example: I owned (past tense) a green wrap skirt, about which I harboured mixed feelings. I wasn’t sure if it made me look like a lampshade or not. I asked my husband what he thought and like spouses everywhere with an iota of self-preservation, he declined to answer. So, I turned to small boy aged 8.
Me: “What do think of this skirt? Does it look nice?”
Small boy aged 8: “Um, yes, it is a very pretty skirt… just not on you.”
I changed. The skirt went in the charity bin.
The point if this little reminiscence is that if a small boy tells you that you bum looks big in that, it does. He isn’t being mean, he’s just telling it like it is. We could all learn something from that. And there’d be a lot less women walking around in clothes that make our asses look big.