Wednesday, 11 December 2019

Just a Sock by Pamela King

Look at the grey blob hanging at the end of the bed. It’s just a sock. One Dad wears to work, it goes with his suit. It’s clean but it’s just a sock.

Christmas eve and just a sock hangs on our beds.

I sigh, lay my head on the pillow and dream of stockings bright and colourful. Dream of more sparkly ones with glitter and sequins, or perhaps a handknitted one of red and green. It would lovely to even have something bigger than Dad’s foot. Why just a sock?

As the first light of dawn filters through our window we rub the sleep from our eyes and look at our dreary socks. Those unexciting items of apparel have a job to do this Christmas morning. They are meant to keep us occupied until Mum and Dad are ready to greet the day.

We grab our socks and race down the hall to Mum and Dad’s bedroom. Leaping from the floor like gymnasts launching from a springboard we land with a double thump on top of them. “Look what’s in our Christmas stockings!”

There’s an orange in the toe then it’s filled with smaller fruit, chocolates, a few small toys, maybe a new lacy hanky. So much for the Christmas morning sleep in. “Anyone want a chocolate?”

***

Our Christmas stocking tradition is still alive and well and always upturned before breakfast or other presents are opened. Now we have stockings with glitter and sparkle but sometimes I wish it was just a sock.

Wednesday, 20 November 2019

Pink Palette by Pamela King

This little piece came about with an exercise for my local writers' group. We were each given a colour as a prompt for a story or poem. I scored PINK. I took the names of the various shades from a paint colour chart to compose this little story

***

Passing the cherry bush and entering the rose arbour, the mischievous, poetic princess’ mind was occupied by her current writing. “What rhymes with lovelight?” she pondered.



Suddenly she caught the flash of a smouldering pink gown. Rushing to investigate the movement of outrageous pink she lost one of her ruby slippers.



An alabaster vase, discarded by the intruder, made her trip. A rustle amid the falls of fuchsias with their pale buds caused her to look up. Before her hovered a fairy with coral essence wings.



“I need to find a peaceful place where I can sleep tight.” The fairy said.



The princess pointed to the white chapel surrounded by powdered snow with a pink powderpuff hue. Pink confetti still covered the crackled path.



In a pink wink the fairy was gone.

Tuesday, 19 November 2019

My Tuesdays by Pamela King


“Nanna!” I hear the voice as I enter the gate of my son’s house. When I walk through the front door she runs and clamps her arms around my legs.

While her mother dresses for work I supervise the little one’s breakfast.

Her tiny hand holds mine as we farewell Mummy. The emotions of love and trust overwhelm me.

 “No Kenzie, you can’t go on your slide, the grass is wet. Let’s go and put some shoes on.”

Her minor tantrum is ignored. I find chalk hidden under a plant and start drawing on the footpath. The distraction works and she takes the chalk to create footpath masterpieces.

Slipping inside, I play her Wiggles guitar. It soon has her running in to do the actions of “Rock-a-bye Your Bear.” The front door is closed until the grass dries.

“Dug Dug” she says. I’ve left Dug the Pug outside. The door is quickly opened and closed again.

We play more Wiggles music, with actions, then she wanders off to her toys. She brings me a small bucket full of jigsaw pieces. There are four separate jigsaws in the container designed to make it more difficult for her. Who is Mum kidding?

The lid is a bit stiff. “Help pees Nanna”. I tip all the shapes on the table. In no time she has all four puzzles finished. She completes each puzzle again. I make a mental note to find a more difficult puzzle for this child.

Now bored with the puzzles she stands at the end of the hall gesturing with her little hand for me to follow. In her room she looks at her books. “What about this one?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“This one?”

“Nope”.

“Which one do you want us to read?” Finally, she picks four. She climbs onto the lounge, taps the cushion and says “Sit.” We read the books, well, I try to read while she turns the pages. We make all the appropriate animal noises.

Morning tea time. I have brought delicious yoghurt with fresh blueberries. I get two spoons, lift her into the high chair and we share. When I’ve had my fill, I leave her with the rest. Oh damn! I didn’t put her bib on. The purplish stain is not only all over her face and hands but on her clothes too. (Mummy will be pleased).

Mess cleaned up, I lift her from her chair saying, “Up, up up”, then, “down, down, down”. Just like in the Wiggles song.

“More” I am told so we repeat it another four times.

Back on the lounge she takes my hand and starts drawing circles with her finger. I know what she wants. “Round and round the garden……….”. Such a sweet giggle. Her turn to draw circles on my hand but at the end of the rhyme I must tickle her. She pulls off her shoes and shoves her foot in my face. “This little piggy….” You guessed it repetition.

She takes my hands to get me to stand and we pretend she is pulling me across the room, then pushing, then pulling, then….

She is amusing herself with her dolls, so I slip into the kitchen and empty the dishwasher. Here comes my little helper.

The grass is finally dry so out we go into the sunshine to play. After about half an hour she is happy to come back inside.

Time for lunch. Ham sandwich for the little one and ham and salad wrap for me. She eats the ham and offers the bread to Dug. “No, Kenzie, not for Dug.” I get a sweet smile. You know the one – condescension.

“More.” She eats the ham and cheese from my wrap.

I take a small fruit juice from my bag. She knows there is a second one and looks for it. “What do you say Kenzie?”

“Pees.” It is said in a way her mouth forms an irresistible smile. Who can say no?

She plays for a little while but is starting to tire and asks for her dummy “Nunga nunga.”

“If you want your nunga you have to go to bed.” Firm shakes of the head.

She points to the remote control. “Puppies.” Okay, if there is no sleep, we’ll have some quiet time. I put on the Air Buddies movie about five puppies who rescue their parents.

She is getting drowsy, so I grab her dummy and bunny. Cuddle and rock her then put her in the cot and pat her on the back. She is soon in the land of fairies.

I’ve brought some work with me but opt to watch television for a while. As soon as I sit on the lounge I have a little black pug cuddled up on my lap. This is his time.

After an hour or so I hear her stirring. She is standing in her cot still drowsy but with the same sweet smile. We cuddle on the lounge and I switch the television to The Wiggles and, again, both of us must do the song actions.

Now wide awake, she takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen showing me she wants something from the pantry. “Use your words Kenzie.”

“Biscuit pees Nanna”.

We share a snack then pass the afternoon much the same as the morning.

A car pulls in the driveway. “Mummy!!!” she cries as she runs to the door.

It’s time to go. I get the greatest good-bye cuddles and kisses.  Oh, how I love my Tuesdays with my delightful granddaughter.  I never dreamed the love for my first grandchild would be so consuming or returned in such an extent.

I drive home with Wiggles’ songs in my head. They should disappear by about ………. next Monday.