My 13 month old daughter has taken to kissing. In fact it’s safe to say she’s taken to it in such a big way I’d say it’s her main activity.
She kisses her mama. She kisses her Daddy and her big brother (a lot) . She kisses books, especially books with cats or dogs in them. She kisses teddy and cat and even the remote control. She blows kisses out the window of the car to traffic lights, buses, clouds and anyone walking by. And today she blew kisses to the two builders at our house, solidly, for about 20 minutes.
And while she was doing this I realised that this is a bit of magic going on here. You see these builders were in a foul mood. Their lousy boss had just told them they weren’t getting paid today. Without going into detail of all this nasty boss stuff it’s safe to say they were grumpy, broke builders.
Now, here’s the magic. By the end of their full quota of 20 minutes of kisses blown by the sweetie pie herself they were happy, jolly, joking builders. They had forgotten about their lack of pay packets totally. Instead they were blowing kisses back to her.
She was very pleased with herself and so she did them the honour of showing them her new shoes.
Once I was at a traffic light in the car and the pedestrian light had just turned red. A young man, school uniform but shaving already so about 15/16 already stepped out just as I started to accelerate.screwup led rather abruptly and wound down the window at speed to begin my usual ranting but he got there first. He started getting all cross and fuming and turning a lovely shade of beetroot. So I stopped my own rant and watched him for a bit.
When he paused I made a kissy face at him. Who knows what I was thinking but I did and then I laughed. He went even redder and stalked off with his chin in the air. Then I looked across at the next car and they were laughing hysterically.
So maybe next time someone is getting all life-rage, blow them a kiss. You never know what will happen. You might even make them laugh.
Is it just mine or does everyone else have a mad family too?
Once, after I’d been away for a summer working and my family came to meet me at the airport they brought a home made “welcome home” banner. I was so embarrassed I almost turned around and went back to baggage hall.
We used to own a beat up Mazda estate, with different colour panels to the front and string to hold the boot shut (yea, Ireland, not that unusual pre MOT days) and I was always dreading if anyone from school would see us driving through our local town. 5 kids plus 2 dogs, complete mad house on wheels, so my mum used to get all the kids to shout “we know Sadbh (me)” , with all the windows rolled down, as we drove through.
We used to have geese (proper country we are talking here) and to arrive or leave out house you had to take the broom with you so they wouldn’t attack. We used to have a broom at the top of our road for visitors in the know. Those not in the know we used to enjoy watching them being chased back up the road by the mad geese, as you do.
My youngest sister went through a phase of only wearing floaty nighties all the time, with her pink princess wellies. No one ever stopped her or even commented.
Once my brother and a friend went to find our goat who had run away (yes goats too) but they stole a little bottle of whiskey from a neighbours window on the way. Two hours later we saw two 11 year old boys hurtling down the road holding on the the rope of a very fast moving and somewhat, no doubt shocked, goat! They were both completely drunk. My poor mum spent the whole evening rubbing their backs as they puked and puked, and giggled.
When I was 7 my younger brother and sister decided we were going to sleep in the garden in a den we made. We lasted till the middle of the night , (about 9 o’ clock) when we got so freaked out by the cat mewing outside and anyway it was a bit cold and wet with just the washing line and a sheet for a tent.
So did everyone else have a normal, non mad childhood and a regular family ? Am I scarred for life? Will i need therapy? Tell you what though, can’t wait to get embarrassing my own kids.