I heard the patter of little footsteps outside the door, and sank down the wall with my phone in hand. I'd spent a good hour in there trying to avoid the awful lot of Lester which had invaded our house- Phil, his parents, his brother, his brother's wife, and their 6 year old son, Tommy.
"Aunty Roo, are you coming out soon?" asked the high-pitched voice from the other side of the door. There was a shuffling noise as the blue dinosaur trousers I knew he was wearing bumped against the wood.
"Just a minute, sweety."
"Are you wiping your willy now?"
I silently pocketed my phone and stood up. "Yes, I'm just wiping my bum. I'll be there in a sec."
"But you don't wipe your bum when you wee," he said slowly, the question evident in his voice, "And you don't have a willy, Aunty Roo, you have a weird crater-thingy like my mummy does."
"Bum is a generic term," I told him firmly as I flushed the loo, "Now mind out of the way, I need to wash my hands."
I opened the door, unsurprised to see a little face staring up at me. Even though he was his nephew, Tommy still had Phil's blue eyes and crooked smile. He was still in his pyjamas, cuddling a little stuffed rabbit with a drooping ear.
He stuck his chubby hand into the running water of the sink, giggling. My nephew looked up at me.
"I like the bubbles, Aunty Roo."
I snorted into the towel I was drying my hands on. "Yes, Tommy, I like the bubbles too. Shall we go and find your mummy and daddy? I think they're with Uncle Phil in the living room."
He nodded his head, the fluffy little mop of blonde hair bobbing up and down. "Okay. Nanny and Grampa are there too."
I felt a thrill of delight as his warm hand snuggled into my larger one.
At the door to the living room, Tommy let go of me and went flying into his mother's arms. I smiled, knowing this was a family where there would always be the time to love and be loved.
(As an added afterthought: Phil gave me an Internet hug on September 13, 2014 at 1:58 PM and I almost cried.)
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Indecisive Dreaming
RandomIn essence, I'm writing down my thoughts, in the most cliché manner possible, and I'm loving it. Your challenge, dear reader, should you choose to accept it, is to embark upon a quest into the mind of Shapes, and to remain mildly sane whilst doing s...
