Re-offender

Simon was four years old. It was his Birthday.

They were walking quickly. Mummy was holding Simon's left hand with her right hand. Left, Right. He had learned these words two days ago and they still held their novelty.

Right, the hand you right with. Left, the hand that's left.

Suddenly, the world had seemed full of new possibilities. Pairs to be divided and matched accordingly. Left shoes and right shoes. Left feet and right feet. A system with which to categorise All Things.

Left things and right things.

"Mummy, you're holding my left hand."

"Yes, I am."

"With your right hand."

Simon's right hand was holding his first Birthday Present, a giant chocolate coin that was as big as his head. He knew this from looking at them side by side in the big hall mirror. He stopped walking to look for his reflection in the coin's shiny wrapping.

"Come on, Simon."

There were more presents waiting for him at home. Big presents, in hopeful coloured wrapping paper. Like a rainbow. Simon was allowed one to take with him, and the rest when he got back. Before then, he and Mummy had to do a Very Important Thing.

He was not sure what the Thing was. He did not know where they were going. But it was his Birthday, so there would probably be cake.