Gotta Have Sole
byMy childhood has come back to haunt me. Not since I was in primary school have I felt so vulnerable. It hurt. It hurt bad.
My childhood has come back to haunt me. Not since I was in primary school have I felt so vulnerable. It hurt. It hurt bad.
Some people know how to work with kids. Some don’t. Fortunately our dentist is in the former group.
Our oldest daughter, Miss10, is a bit of a klutz. So far she’s managed to injure herself, in one form or other, every day of the holidays. Yesterday, while mucking about with her cousins and younger siblings, she jumped off our small retaining wall but seemed to change her mind midway through the manoeuvre.
Some may consider this post to be a little too much information so don’t click over if you’re easier offended by words like penis, pulled and finger, cause they’re all in it.
I lay shirtless on the table. Both doctors were fairly buff in much the same way I’m not, but rather than feel inadequate I reminded myself this body has produced seven children, so of course it’s looking less than pristine.
Miss9 walked towards the car looking like she was straight out of a western comedy: a cowgirl with saddle sores.
“Mummy, it hurrrrrts,” she told Tracey.