The stooky fairy

Saturday, 23 May 2009

YS, poor lamb, broke his wrist and arm on Thursday evening, when he fell down the stairs. He is bearing up well and keeps telling me not to cry about it, "cos it's so embarrassing, mummy." Well, I haven't cried, but I do feel very sad for him and am finding it hard to conceal from him. He is a perceptive wee thing.

OS has been told he needs new glasses because he has grown out of them. I didn't think that could happen, but I did tell the optician we were a family of big hat wearers. I guess that didn't quite come out right. Now he is 9, he is becoming sniffy about glasses selection. "I simply won't wear grey," he said veering towards a a swanky multi coloured designer pair that cost £170. I told him straight that he wasn't allowed to like frames over £49, and he looked at me disdainfully. "Mum, glasses are a very important thing to choose, it's important to get it right." Has he been watching Gok?

When the optician discovered that YS had broken his arm, he was optimstic and charming. "When is the stooky (a Scotterish term for a plaster cast) fairy coming/" he declared excitedly, looking around for reinforcement from his colleagues. Everyone looked aghast, we had only ever heard of the tooth fairy. He danced about and said that every time he broke a bone, the stooky fairy brought him a present. Awww, how sweet. At that moment, every woman in the shop melted. I love it when men show there innocence.

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