CHANNELLING MEAT LOAF

There comes a time when you just have to put on your big girl pants and do what’s best for the people you love. Even if it means you can foresee your own suffering.

Dummies, also known as pacifiers are Henry’s BFFs. It’s the first thing he thinks about in the morning and the last thing he seeks for at night. His attachment to dummies is equal to that of a security blanket or a snuggle toy for bed. Sometimes, kids outgrow these things and sometimes you just have to force them to.

“Where’s my dummy?” Henry whines.

“We gave it to Alex; the baby, remember?” I remind him gently, “You’re a big boy now. You don’t need a dummy.”

Henry goes into prone position and wails, “I need my dummy! I need to breathe!”

“No. No dummy Henry,” I say, mustering up all my strength for the impending tantrum. I give him a pat on the back. Big mistake. Rookie error.

“I want handies!” he yells, as he reaches out to hold my hand.

I roll my eyes and think to myself, “Get in line kid.”

“No.”

“I want to touch your arm!” Henry demands.

“No.”

“I want to touch your body Mummy!!” cries Henry, his little hand reaching out to seek comfort.

“No,” I giggle. “Are you channelling your dad?”

Henry rolls around in his cot and pounds his tiny fists into the mattress. He gives me crocodile tears for a good five minutes before changing tack.

“Mummy, my noodle hurts!” says Henry, sitting up.

This kid is relentless at bedtime. I would kill to go to bed early and have a big sleep.

“Uh-huh, point to your noodle,” I ask, because really… that could mean anything.

Henry points to his elbow and says, “It’s not fair really.”

“It’s fine. Go to sleep.” I turn to leave.

Henry starts the waterworks and like the sucker that I am, his cries tug at my heartstrings.

“Mummy! I want my dummy!!” Henry sobs. Snot is dribbling down his nose; his face has turned red; tears are streaming down his cheeks.

I feel my resolve disintegrate into smithereens. Reluctantly, I return and give him my hand.

“Go to sleep Henry,” I reassure him. Thank goodness I threw out the dummies into the bin at the shops and not at home. I’d probably be rummaging through it just about now.

Henry calms down and says, “I love you lots Mummy.”

His words are a balm for my weary soul. I can never get enough. “I love you too pork chop. GO. TO. SLEEP.”

“I’d do anything for you Mummy,” Henry continues with his declarations of love.

I chuckle and sing, “But I won’t do that!”

Copyright © 2019, KN J Tales and Snippets. All rights reserved.

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ACCIDENTAL RAILJOB

Which one would you choose?

Sitting in your climate controlled car but crawling bumper to bumper in gridlocked traffic. ETA unknown.

Or…

Packed like sardines in an overcrowded train carriage with a broken thermostat. ETA dependent on the weather.

Neither? You work from home? You don’t need work? Your money grows on trees? I so so envy you.

If you’re like me and have to join the masses for the commute, and have chosen the train then you have my commiseration.

Why? Train rides are the worst; stifling heat from the masses in contained areas; recycled air filled with germs from hacking coughs and projectile sneezing; someone constantly sniffling or snorting their gunk; unpleasant smells. Let’s not forget the awkwardness of having someone in your personal space.

On my latest commute, the train system was in shambles due to track damage. This meant hordes of people converged on the platforms to get a coveted position in the carriages. I end up pushed along until I’m right in front of the disabled seats. I am standing so close to this seated woman that it borders on indecent. Being vertically challenged, my hand immediately skims the nearby handrails to hold myself upright. It’s prime real estate. I ready myself in a warrior stance to avoid toppling with the jerky movements of the train.

Not wanting to stare at the woman in my direct line of sight, I shift my gaze to people in the carriage. I’m immediately assaulted with the sight of a man oddly rubbing his phone on the thigh, incessantly, for what feels like an unseemly amount of time. He must really want a clean phone screen.

Feeling a bit perturbed, I look away and catch the sight of a woman putting on a full face of makeup. I’m amazed at her ability to put on eyeliner without stabbing herself in the eye. On a good day, I look like I’m playing a solo game of Twister against the mirror so I can’t imagine adding movement to that conundrum.

More people shuffle into the carriage. I take a deep fortifying breath. Regret courses through me when I take a whiff of body odour from the armpits of the man standing beside me. I’m just at the right height for maximum damage. I shuffle and do a one-eighty degree turn only to have a mouth breather in my face.

As I’m having my moment of existential crisis, I’m become aware of the feeling of material rubbing against my knuckles and glance down.

“What the fudging hell?”

A giant man is standing near me, his crotch leaning against the handrail, which just so happened to have my hand wrapped around it. The swaying movement of the train meant that I was giving this giant a railjob. I look up and continued looking up till I reach the man’s face. I can feel myself blushing. He hasn’t noticed. I try to discreetly move my hand but it’s jammed. It ain’t going anywhere.

“Ahem!” Nothing. Nada.

“Ahem! Ahem! Argh!” I say with more emphasis.

The man looks curiously down at me. I direct my gaze to the hostage situation and glance back to him. He jerks away from the rails and gives me an apologetic smile.

I give an involuntary shudder. I’m going to have to bleach my eyes and scrub my knuckles after this particular train ride.

The train doors open. My stop. I push and shove my way past the crowd to get through in time. The cool air hits my face, offering immediate respite. I take a breather.

You know that saying…do a good deed every day?

I think I reached my quota.

Copyright © 2019, KN J Tales and Snippets. All rights reserved.

https://knj.home.blog/privacy-policy/