Thug mo DS grá dom.
So said Omar Shariff to his teacher and seven year old class mates. He’d put up his hand and volunteered when they were talking about friends. He, Lisa and Susie were chatting about this as I drove them home and I thought melty dad thoughts as they giggled. And then,
Suck my balls
OMAR! Where did you hear that? I over reacted, thinking the forbidden South Park with his older brother.
I made it up Dad
Omar and I have discussed context and how something is or is not appropriate. And he takes the piss regularly. For what it’s worth, I preach a mantra that there’s no such things as bad words, only impolite or inappropriate ones. And he nods sagely, and then says it anyway.
Or when his twelve year old brother hugs me and thinks that I still know shit, every day, and believes I’m not old. And still wants to be with me, I mean in my company, and tells me that he scored three goals today in PE, and another one in the much harder yard game. He looks drop dead gorgeous in navy and found out a safe way of making a smoke bomb.
Or that time his sister got a request played on Spin FM for the best dad in Munster. It was Reanna and Umbrella, bless both of them.
I met recently fifty Tom last evening; he was wearing bright orange Bono wrap arounds.
Getting in touch with your feminine side Tom, we were both on bikes. How’s fifty treating you?
Would you do it all again Sniffle? and then ventured that most people wouldn’t (do it all again), older people though, not like me.
If I could be guaranteed the three children I have now, yeah I’d take all the shit.
I head out onto the canal bank up to where it meets the Shannon. The green fullness presses in on top of me. If you’re hungry, you can dine on a variety of midges as you sweat along. I’m not sure I approve of the new boat house and the rowing thing though; there was a fella shouting and roaring at them which wrecked the karma. Out further, beyond the falls and up as far as the Mulcare, throw the bike down and sit, light up and be.
Kingfishers live here.