My daughter has a bit of an obsession with plasters. She wants a plaster for all minor and non-existent injuries. Apparently plasters are actually magic. They can heal all wounds - real and unreal. With this in mind and because I'm obsessed with lyrics, if she says "I hurt myself" but it's pretty clear that she hasn't. I respond by singing a line of Johnny Cash's Hurt to her. It goes a little something like this:
Daughter: *no evidence of accident, proffering invisible wound* "I hurt myself......"
Mummy: *musically* ".........today, to see if I still feel".
Daughter: *looks ambivalent, goes off to do something else*.
Mummy: *looks 'comedic', goes off to find plasters*.
PS. Daughter is wrapping a sticker around her thumb as I type. It's not a sticker mummy, it's a plaster. The obsession continues.........
An insight into the workings of my mind. You have been warned ;-) Here you will find my musings on various matters. From the profound to the ridiculous: seemingly disparate elements yet often found to be two sides of the same coin.
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