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Archive for the ‘cormac’ Category

 

I bought Cormac a camera for his birthday and he’s completely captivated. Rarely have have I got it more right with a present for the children.

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I am sure I have said this before, but there is nothing like the tenderness you see in your children when they are suddenly caring for you when you’re sick.

And there is nothing more reassuring, as a parent, than seeing your own phrases and tending mirrored back to you. To see your nurturing as it is seen by your children.

 

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The 6 yr old, Cormac, left his sister and step-sisters and went to my mother’s for the night to live out his fantasy of being an only child.

Apparently he suggested Thai takeaway for dinner and so that’s what they had, then they played his card game, read some books and went to bed where he slept with too many knees in my mother’s side.

This morning he is sniffing the sauerkraut my mother is making and advising her that yes, he’d probably like that too.

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1. Go to a lake.
2. Put down the towels, shoes and clothes and explain to the children how to swim safely here.
3. Have a beer with your friend.
4. Then, swim to one side of the lake and back together.
5. Out in the deep lay your heads on boogie boards and let your legs drop, your eyes lock.
6. By the time you are ready to swim back to the shore all your secrets will be divulged.
7. The older children will follow you across the lake. Old enough to want to know your secrets. But not old enough to swim as fast as you and your friend.

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Cormac (age 6), swims alongside me in the lake one evening after I have come home from work. We are having a quick swim before dinner to cool off. The lake, which is very, very deep is darker than ever with only a slither of a moon above us. He says, “look how sharp the moon is.”

 

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Best mates

BB best friends

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One day you’re cleaning up your kids’ rooms while they’re away at their father’s and among their piles of mess you come across a list the two of them made and.. oof.. if you don’t just ache with longing for them then.

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Writing lists about one’s family members is hereditary, apparently.

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