So last week I was all smug. Smug about how cool Harry’s been with the whole carless thing, rather than actually being smug about being carless, but still. This week… not so much.
We’ve been lucky for a few weeks in that it hasn’t rained a lot – it’s been absolutely freezing, which has its own challenges (Joe refuses to wear gloves, but then cries because his hands are cold) – but cold trumps wet every time.
The other day, I set off to pick Harry up in a light drizzle. By the time I got to school it was hammering down. And windy too, so my hood kept blowing off. I had to take my glasses off because they were filling up with water like something off a cartoon and the rain was like tiny needles all over my face. (Good for the complexion or not?)
About five minutes from school, Joe decided that he didn’t want his rain cover on anymore. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I told him. “It’s pouring! You’ll get wet.” He seemed to reconsider and, instead, pulled his legs out of his Cosytoes and stuck his socked feet out from under the raincover.
I crouched down and tried to cram them back in, but he went rigid and there was nothing to be done. Crouching in front of a squawking, stubborn toddler, specs in my pocket, rain pouring down my bum cleavage, I thought, “I’m way too old for this crap.”
I trudged on, muttering darkly in Joe’s direction and, when he pulled his socks off and dropped them in the mud, thinking about maybe having a little cry.
Seeing Harry cheered me up and once we were back on the canal path with the wind behind us – no more rain needles! my hood stayed up! – I felt calmer.
“I wish we had a car,” Harry sighed.
“Too effin right,” I thought.
But didn’t say.
(you can read more in the Carless Whispers series by clickety clicking on the image above)
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