Andrew James Whalan

Poet Blogger Writer

Tag: Children

The Wish

“You shouldn’t encourage her,” Juanita’s mother pontificated.
“Me? I thought it must have been you.”
“I never said a word. She made it all up. By herself.”
“She has some imagination, I’ll grant her that. But she’s only a child. She’ll get over it. In time,” said her dad patiently.
“Reality catches up with us all,” sighed her mother.
“It’s just a pet. One of many,” replied Juanita’s Dad.

The back screen door groaned. Both parents looked at each other. Always they were bound to the unspoken rule. Parents must be seen and not heard. At least not in front of the children.

A click of heels announced itself. A pink tutu swayed first side to side then up and down. A moppet curl appeared as if from nowhere.
In leapt Juanita. She skipped lightly, her face beaming, her voice joyous.

“I said my prayers,” she said. “Just like I was told to.”
“Juanita…”, her Dad began. Her eyes smiled at him.
“Who told you that?” Snapped her mother.
“My friend. The one you can’t see.” Juanita’s voice was like running water.
“Sometimes, things don’t…,” counselled her mother. Juanita tossed her curls. And laughed. Neither parent could look at her. Nor could they speak.

“We know Misty is sick,” interjected her father.
“And sometimes sick people don’t get better,” added her mother.
“They do. She said so. I said so. And Misty will too”, Juanita said confidently. “So there,” she concluded.

Her tousled hair flew. She nodded.”I know.” She pointed to herself. Then she pointed upwards. “And He does too.”
And she danced away. The back door thudded shut. Mother and Her parents exchanged forlorn looks both clouded by doubt.

“I don’t know where she gets it from,” her mother said, “she’s only going to be disappointed.”
“Well, I didn’t tell her. She certainly didn’t get those pious thoughts in her pretty little head from me,” her father chuckled. “I have a whole canon of atheism to defend. She’ll get over it.”
“I know. Losing a pet is a horrible experience for a child to go through. And she’s making it far worse by denying it,” her mother replied.
“I’m going to have to bury it, you know,” her father said grimly.
“If she’ll let you. She still goes back to it hoping it will wake up.”

Both parents looked outside. Juanita was bent over a prone black body. They only turned away for a second. But that was enough for both of them to feel a warmth steal in from outside. Enough to make them shiver.

A scratching like steel wool against a fry pan. Then a dull sproing. Then a rusty metallic groan. The outside screen door had swung open again. Both parents looked at each other.

Unusually or rather as usual then there was a thump. Soft rubber paddling on wood. Then the soft pitter patter up the stairs. Four paws padded in. Black eyes glittered from a smooth furry head. All suffixed by a hungry meow.

“What?” both parents spoke at once.

A click of heels. A pink tutu. A shake of curls. A flutter of angel wings. Then Juanita appeared. Skipping, dancing, smiling. “See!” Her parents still couldn’t.

Lost Underfoot

I looLiftarn_Adult_and_child.svgked up. All I could see were legs. Masses of moving legs. I looked down. I saw shoes and thongs and skirts and legs and trousers. But were they attached to anything? I didn’t know. I felt even smaller. It was like a centipede that’s been shopping was walking over me!!

I couldn’t see faces or arms. I couldn’t see that high. I just held on and let myself be dragged through them. I held tight to my show bag too.

Then the hand holding me let go. I didn’t know which leg to grab. They all looked alike. But none of them were mine. Mine was gone. And the crowd moved me on.

You Won! No You Did!

I heard the above conversation just this morning.

I’m walking along the bike path near Brighton Beach in Melbourne this morning. I’ve just passed the bathing boxes.

To my left I see a blur of hair and colour as two small girls in dresses, one wearing a shawl, race each other down the path.

They cross in front of me and touch the fence at the same time.

Then they turn to each other and say You Won! No You Did!

I look down and softly say, “You both did.”

But they’re still sorting it out. Children these days!

That’s Nobody’s Balloon


balloons (Photo credit: shellipsm)

It happened the other day. I’m shopping and I am filling my basket with fruit and vegetables.

I finish, go to the counter and am served. Then I bend down to pick up my basket.
There is a balloon attached to a stick in my basket! And there is no child nearby to take it back! This could be my lucky day!
But it was not to be. To my right is an empty pram, two children and two balloons. They may have one too many. Or a child is missing looking for the balloon. Or perhaps it belongs to the parent.
By now I’m holding a balloon while the shop assistant is sorting, weighing, pricing and packing my groceries. And she’s amused. She would like an explanation. I don’t have one. Well not an adult one anyway.
As I said to her if I had stolen the balloon I would have been asked for it back. But I wasn’t. So I stole back quietly and stuck it on the pram. Somewhere out there a happy parent is enjoying his or her balloon!! And yes I would have accepted it if it was given! It’s still fun to be an adult you know!

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