The Confession.

17-03-2011

I was picking up Jack from nursery.
I was speaking to one of the carers, getting the skinny on Jack's activities and such for that day. Apparently Jack had got himself very worked up thinking that he was going to be in a lot of trouble with us for a minor accident that he'd had. So he'd asked her to explain the situation before I got anywhere near him... We were just finished up when Jack interrupted.

Daddy can we go to there? He pointed to a pamphlet stapled to their bulletin board.
I took a quick look at the pamphlet cover. No hun I don't even know where that is.
But it's a fun place look. I want to go there another day.
It could be anywhere Jack.
"It's probably in America somewhere." the carer said trying to help. She had no idea of how little she was helping. In an attempt to distract Jack from dragging me into another prolonged conversation about our next trip to America I offered more information about the pamphlet.
It's not a pamphlet for a play place Jack. The picture is just the cover.
What is it for then?
I took a quick look. Abused children.
I'm one of those, I'm an abused child. It would seem that today I was destined to get dragged into a prolonged conversation with somebody about something.


Something about this reminded me of my Sister telling me about once having to forcibly remove her misbehaving daughter from a church session. This wouldn't have been so bad if her daughter hadn't been screaming "MOMMY DON'T HIT ME!" on the way out.

Kids eh?