Why, no, I don’t get out much

There’s a point in early motherhood when you realise that any remaining shreds of self consciousness or shame have long gone out of the window.  For me, this was when I caught myself walking down the road with Microboy, singing out loud… “Hi ho, Hi ho, Off to Waitrose we go…”

In fact this ditty has now taken such root that I appear to be incapable of visiting ‘trose without singing it aloud every time.  (James is going to be very confused when he eventually watches Snow White and the dwarfs fail to return home with 2 fillets of sea bream and a bag of sage.)

Of course, singing made up songs to my dearest ones is nothing new (I’ve been doing it at the cats for years) but it has become somewhat constant since the microbe arrived.  This morning I started a new ditty with the opening line “Jimmy Jammy Dodger…”  but unfortunately the only rhyme I could think of was “todger” – so it’s not really suitable for the internet.

(Ok, I’ll get my coat.)

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About Susan Flockhart

Bonsai lady-geek and blogger. I can hardly recall what I used to blog about pre-microbes, but these days I generally ramble about motherhood, nonsense and whatever's going on the world of tiny people
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