DorkySon was just lying on the sofa, playing a game on the iPad, while I tidied around him.
“Mummy,” he said. “Dying doesn’t mean that you go away and never come back, does it?”
I froze. Continue reading
DorkySon was just lying on the sofa, playing a game on the iPad, while I tidied around him.
“Mummy,” he said. “Dying doesn’t mean that you go away and never come back, does it?”
I froze. Continue reading
One of DorkyDad’s poems is called One of the Questions Coming – and it’s a lovely, funny piece where he imagines how he’ll respond on that inevitable day sometime in the future when DorkySon asks him if he ever did drugs.
We have not reached that stage of questioning quite yet, but DorkySon has hit me with a few curious toddler curveballs recently, and my parenting skills are being tested to the max. Never mind all that stuff about how to put on a nappy or burp your baby – where’s the chapter in the textbook that tells you how to answer when your son asks ‘Why don’t you have a penis, Mummy?’
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