Sticky fingerprints are on every surface in the room including the computer monitor, my magnifier, the walls, the telephone and now me but its not the kid’s fault. We are in the dingiest counselling room in the Citizens Advice Bureau building . It is also the smallest. To be frank it has pretensions to be a stationary cupboard but the charity is desperate for space so somehow someone has squeezed in three chairs and a battered computer desk although the room is too small to actually pull out the keyboard from the sliding drawer. Two adults can barely fit – add a rampaging toddler and things will get sticky.
I slouch homeward and as I walk through the desolate shopping centre I note how people’s eyes slide away from others or rise in challenge and anger. I walk faster and stumble and get my cane out. The sky is low and grey, the light harsh. Crossing the road I feel as if everyone in every car is staring at me People are every where, looking tired, anxious and I am sick of the endless concrete, the smell of piss and old cigarette ash.
At home I look around my flat and make a decision. It is time to move again. I don’t know where and I don’t know how but I know another year here won’t work. Having made the decision I feel better. I take deep breaths and whatever it is gripping my heart lets go. I look down and notice the tiny sets of fingerprints on the knees of my jeans. Two perfect sets, five prints on each knee where the little boy came over and leaned on me, looked up into my face and smiled unaware of the grotty room, the distress of his mother, the tension in my face. I remember the smile now and it makes me grin too. I remember I am an idiot. That all this will pass and that if you look for misery you will find it. Sometimes ones perspective needs a good tweaking by a snotty, banana encrusted three year old.
Ta kid. 
Comments 9
Nothing better than an encrusted three year old Lx
What a wonderful and moving post — perfect for these end-of-winter start-of-recession times too.
Just Sunday my baby daughter ate a big pink donut half of which stuck to her face, and she had a cold, with a runny nose full of green goo. OF COURSE she then runs straight for me to thank me for the donut with a sloppy BIG KISS and earned herself the new nickname SugarBooger.
You’re right, when they come at you all innocent smiles, all you can do is take it with a smile of your own and let them love you. There’s something very special about being three; maybe deep inside we all wish it was us.
whoa…glazed doughnuts…frightening messy encounter i’d say…particularly after a challenging day…xxx j
At least the kid didn’t wipe it on the walls like a certain 5 year old I could mention. Yuck!
What a great post this is. I could smell the banana and stuffy room from all the way over here in Canada.
Indeed, the wise ones are the little ones.
You have touched on all the human stuff in this one, and you have done so with such authenticity.
I could have my four year old throw up on you a little bit if that would also brighten your day.
By the way I agree you need to move. Living there is lonely. You are too much fun to spend your life somewhere were you do not have hoards of people appreciating how wonderful you are. So move here to NYC or move to Canada the part where you are close to me and my folks. Really.
Excellent and uplifting post. Really puts things into perspective: )
Author
Thanks friends
can see you have all had expereince of encrusted toddlers. SuperBooger eh Susan? Don’t let her take that one to school!
And you are right Cuz. Canada, New York…concrete outpost in cambridge. Will look into it of course.
T xx
oh my word – snot and squashed banana send you a message. keep us posted. lovely lovely blog. big fan 🙂