Tuesday, May 26, 2009

raspberries at dusk

I'm sitting here, my mind a complete blank, it's like life is washing over me - work, Motherhood, wife-dom, the whole schmoo is like a tide that has just pushed me out onto the litoral of bedtime. I have one memory from today, amongst the flotsam and jetsam, the snapshots of phonecalls and emails and task lists and stolen trips to the fridge for snacks and that memory is of my son blowing a series of highly damp raspberries directly into my face in response to my suggestion that His Royal Piglet might like to take a bath.

I can't remember what happened before the raspberry. I imagine it was dinner-related but for some reason I had picked him up and we were in that Siamese standing position, one pair of legs, two heads - you know what I mean, parent carrying child, child and parent nose-to-nose. Anyway, so I suggested the bath and he blew a big, fat, juicy raspberry right into my face until I was coated in a fine spray of yoghurt and spit and apple juice.

The only appropriate response, I decided, was to blow one back, however my first few tries were fairly pitiful. For each of my little Mumsy blows I got a faceful of spit back and so I loaded up and sprayed him a good one - boy was it worth it. First I got a look of fake shock, then he wiped his face with the back of his wrist, cackling with laughter. And then he gave me both guns.

We stood there for a minute or so, trading big wet buckets of spit and roaring with laughter; however he didn't ever consent to take that bath. He probably didn't need it after all that mind you.


Mum said...

Oh yeucch. When your papa told me that there was ANOTHER blog "Raspberries at dusk" I had this lovely vision of you and the frog sitting on the patio with raspberries and cream and champagne. And gently feeding the spud with raspberries. SIghhhh
Big too much Evelyn Waugh huh?

Kat said...


Tonight I made strawberry shortcake, to use up all the rest of the berries we picked this weekend. We finished ours first, and then Colin promptly dumped his bowl of cut berries and yumminess onto the kitchen floor. There wasn't any more. There were tears. I scooped it back up into his bowl, and he ate it, happy as a lark. Yes, I really did.

The floor was relatively clean, at least.

Is that more or less yucky than spitting rasperries into each other's faces? I think I win. ;)

Mary T said...

That's lovely, I love those funny but precious little moments.

My raspberry blowing is pitiful too.

Lisa (Jonny's Mommy) said...

eeew! But still so cute. I am not sure I could exchange spit with my kid like that, but at the same time, I love him so much I probably wouldn't notice! :-)

A Modern Mother said...

Lovely! But I bet he did need one.

Anonymous said...

Sparx. Edge is gone. No edge. You're featured on Totsy's Place. It's all warm and fuzzy and cuddly.

Where's your fricking edge. You're writing longer and more eloquent versions of the me-too blurts that powder each post with their delicately scented and fluffy talc. Fucking EDGE.

Sparx said...

Mum - yes, sorry about that.

Kat - I'd have done the same...

Mary - practice, woman!

Lisa - chicken!

Modern Mother - yes, in fact, he did.

Anonymous. It's lack of brainpower, it's all been sucked away.