On the road to Hyndland !

Let’s get the moan out the way first! It is only Tuesday and so far this week has not been good in any shape or form.  Suffice to say that not only did I not make the Gym on Monday night; I also missed a Doctor’s appointment, forgot to go see the Bank Manager today, my Blackberry went phut and I broke another bottle of my favourite perfume. Yes, I have checked and I didn’t break any mirrors!

So as you can imagine the mood on my walk home at night has not been the best, the glower on my face probably scared children and frightened even the largest of dugs! My normal 45 minute walk took me 40 minutes last night and tonight I was heading for a personal best had it not been for Jack.

I decided to cut through the park and just before I came out the gate to storm up onto University Avenue, I bumped into a woman struggling with her buggy. The wee boy she had with her was making a bid for freedom whilst she tried to untangle her bag strap, so being a good citizen, I offered to help. She sprinted off after the escapee and I expertly (ex Nursery Nurse) sorted out the buggy. ‘I’m Jack, I am nearly three and you are a nice lady’ said the escapee, offering me a rather sticky hand. His poor Mum apologised for his chat and the remains of the raspberry jam sarnie stickiness. They had been at the park as a treat for Jack, who had apparently been ‘ extra good at behaving at Nursery’ today. I was assured that he had been ‘really dead good, and had shared the lego and everything’ and had even ‘spoken to Jessie who never shares her crisps’. I walked a bit with them till we got to Byres Road, when Jack decided that it was time to reach for the big prize and announce that he had helped’ to tidy up the books today and could he have an ice cream please’. Mum had that look on her face, the one that only an exhausted mother of a nearly three-year old who never shuts up and can make you feel guilty with just one smile, would understand.  I offered to buy them one and we headed into Nardinis, Jack for a plain vanilla cone and Mum, well I bought her the biggest cone she could handle. I started to say my goodbyes and got a vanilla covered kiss from Jack. He asked my name and when I told him he said ‘that’s funny that your Mummy and Daddy called you Jellybean, was it because you are very sweet?’. Bless his sticky little mits

So unlike Paul on the road to Damascus, my revelation came about not via a light from the sky or a voice in wilderness but from a gobby three-year old on the road to Hyndland, with a gorgeous toothy giggle at his mispronunciation of my name. Doesn’t matter what stresses the day brings, how many Blackberrys break or how many Gym sessions are missed, my name is Jellybean and I am very sweet … allegedly!

Here’s to the rest of the week !

G x

PS names have been changed to protect the sticky! Permission was granted by Mum to use the story

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3 Comments

  1. I have also been rechristened by a 3 year old this week. So, pleased to meet you Jellybean, my name is Doily

  2. I don’t normally go near 3 year olds without the appropriate safety measures have been carried out and the relative organisations have given me the “all clear” first. What struck me Ger was your description of the poor mother totally exhausted and under the strain of carrying an Atlas Mountain of guilt…….How I remember those days. Sadly, the older the child gets the bigger the guilt mountain becomes and the more you sit and plot the demise of all those that upset her…….I have been having one of those phases now and I just want to stand in front of her with a big shield and a very sharp machete…….

  3. Henceforth I shall only refer to you as Jellybean! I love it.
    And as for you, Tina, is that short for Dolly Mixtures? We could start a wee sweetie shop.

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