Running, and running late

The 8am news is on the radio.  We’re meant to be putting children in car-seats about now.

“Pearl, come here and let me do your hair… Hold still!  Chin up, please… ”

“Mummy, yesterday I was playing with X and she said…”

“Rargh!  Rargh!”  Fainjin runs through the kitchen, does a loop through the lounge and reappears.  “Rargh!  Rargh!  I’m a penguin!”

“… and then I said she shouldn’t but she wanted to anyway and I didn’t want to so I just…”

“Pearl, turn around… stop there…”

“… and then we went looking for fairies but we didn’t find any because they’re really good at hiding you know, and…”

“Rargh!  Rargh!” and this time Babess is toddling in Fainjin’s wake, a little echo.  “Wak!  wak!  Ping-in!”

“Alright, Pearl, put the hair gear away.  Is your lunch packed? Got everything?”

I get the impression the house breathes a sigh of relief as we all walk out the door, and quiet descends.

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