The Clash Of The Unicorns

There are occasions when a fine line is drawn between defiantly rude and defiantly cute, particularly when it comes to children. The little travellers can be swimming along in a sea of cute, one minute they’re bathing in the laughter and adoration of surrounding adults, the next they find themselves being pulled into the rip with an “okay, okay, the first time was funny, but fifteen times can be tiresome”.

I have watched the face of each of my children fall at the same speed of some their “jokes”. The jocularity that filled the air with Mummy I’m going to eat your nose, somehow waned by its 9th or 10th near miss. On the 12th attempt you suggest concentrating on finishing lunch, and by the 14th your voice became sterner with an “okay, enough now”. On the 16th nose eating attempt you regained some composure and switched tack, suggesting a play outside. On the 18th attempt when teeth connected, skin was broken and you were pretty sure your eye was bruised by a stray elbow, you found yourself uttering a strained and audible “ENOUGH! It’s not funny now, Mummy’s hurt now” leaving you both wondering at what stage it all went so terrible wrong.

Although when cute defiance is at its peak, served in just the right dose, it can be knock out funny.

The fourth little traveller was determined to wear his orange hoodie with his red jeans.

“You can’t darling, bright orange and red just don’t go together”

“Who made those rules? And what’s a clash?” he asked with pursed lips and a furrowed brow.

“Well, you know how you learned about colours at school? It just doesn’t fit. They clash. You can’t wear that hoodie with those jeans.”

“I like this hoodie. I’m not getting changed!” there was a defiant foot stamp.

“Okay” I decided to change position “you can wear it, but don’t blame me when people shield their eyes when you walk into the room.”

He began stomping his way towards the door before stopping for a moment, curiosity getting the better of him. “Why? What will they do?”

“Well, when the clash of your orange and red hits their retinas and they all scream out ‘my eyes my eyes, he’s burning my eyes’ don’t blame me – I warned you.”

“Yeah right Mum, they’ll say that just before they hop on their unicorns and ride home.”

As he stomped his way to the car I stopped and hid behind the back door, my giggles were silent, as were Granny’s.

Defiantly cute, and looking a million bucks in his red jeans and orange hoodie –  we made our way into the restaurant of the Club. We’d taken a couple of steps before he removed the hoodie and passed it back to me. I raised an eyebrow.

“Just incase” he said with a hair flick and an eye roll.

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