I met him at work…
he is four & a half years old.
he brought out a fake poo and placed it on the deck.
small boy pointing to fake poo, ‘AAW DON… did you do that?’
don’s defence… ‘NO! you did’
bringing it over to me, ‘hey lady look at this…’
‘no way, gross’
‘you have to touch it…’
his mum yelling from inside, ‘leave them alone and come inside’
boy yells, ‘BUT MUM! the lady has to touch the poo’
‘lady if you don’t touch the poo, your fired…’
his mum tried to save me, ‘leave dell alone’
good question boy.
he could never remember my name. in the course of three days he referred to me as;
yes, I am many things…
ps. i didn't go to ceres because my lady couldn't go & the thought of being abandoned in the drizzle, BY MYSELF, with a hangover, amongst a bunch of hippies and evil giant prams made my body ache all over....