Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Winter afternoon, in the dark and sleepy time.

1. It's a cold and dank afternoon so Alec and I warm our hands and our hearts in a new cafe on The Pantiles -- it's called The Cake Shed because it is most definitely cake centred. We devour two kinds in tiny bites to make them last -- carrot, and an extra special brownie (Alec comments that the raisins are sour, and the owner explains that they are cranberries and gives him one to try).

2. "It dark, Ally scared."
"Well we'll be out of this passageway and back on the Pantiles in a jiffy if you turn round and walk that way."
"Sing it."
"Sing what?"
"SING IT! Don't be afraid of dark..."
"Oh... oh right... (mumbles, unsure about acoustics and thinks that singing in the bedroom at night is one thing, but in the street just after tea is quite another) 'When you walk through the storm...'"

3. Those evenings when, after just three stories, Alec says he wants to lie down.


  1. Sing as loudly as you wish -- it will comfort your child . . . and amuse anyone near enough to hear. Hugs!

    1. :-) I'm not sure about amusing people. Alec is a bit obsessed with scary experiences at the moment -- he seems to like anything that is 'little bit scary', as if he's trying out the feeling for size.

  2. Just three stories? I used to stop after one, nice mom!

    1. We don't stop until he is so tired he can hardly stay awake. Sometimes it's three stories, sometimes it's nine.


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