Bog Days

Once they rounded the twisty corner they would see it, stretching as far as the eye can see. The Bog , infamous, mysterious and mucky. A stretch of marshy damp brown soil where once ancient majestic Irish forests stood.

Being Three

I hear him in the background as I try to steal half an hour to myself. Its Sunday and we have not left the house. Its the usual way on a Sunday, we potter about trying to get organised for the week ahead. He is "reading" a story to his older brother. The book seems... Continue Reading →

Three year olds and Snails

He sat on my knee. It was nice to hold him close after the trying morning we had been through. He had been losing his temper over the tiniest of things. He didn't want his toast cut in half, I broke his biscuit, I gave him the wrong shorts to wear. He didn't want to... Continue Reading →

When you were Five

  He has an ear piece in his ear. He is talking to someone, giving orders, delegating it sounds like. He wears a pair of dark trousers and a dark formal shirt. He walks around in circles in deep conversation to whomever can hear him through the ear piece. I watch him with interest, wonder... Continue Reading →

His Friends That We Cannot See.

Under his bed there is a troupe of charactersThere is a giant caterpillar. He eats everything. Houses, cars, couches, shoes. Of course his favourite thing to eat is the branch of a tree. There are some very friendly Ghosts who stay there all day in the dark beneath his bed to protect our house.Recently Elsa and... Continue Reading →

Unconditional Love

We sit on the red swing.Him and I.His chubby foot tucked under my crossed legs.I love the weight of his small body against mine.My arms around him trying my best not to cuddle him to death.My lips resting on the top of his beautiful baby head.Soft wispy hair tickling my nose. I breathe in his... Continue Reading →

How I Grew a Bookworm

We sit on a golden velour armchair. One of the few pieces of furniture we own with a family tale to tell. An heirloom passed down from their great grandmother's country WA cottage. The wooden arms are scratched and worn but the old chair is full of life.  He rests upon my knee. He is sparkling,... Continue Reading →

My Threenager and Me

This post is part of a series:On this day that I dedicate to them, you may be relieved to know it is not always full of airy fairy candy floss, where I prance around pretending everything is perfect.On this particular Friday, the word of the day was Challenge. As the moods and emotions of our small... Continue Reading →

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