‘It can wait…’ a piece of flash fiction by Heather Scott

b2ap3_thumbnail_Mummy-Pig-slippers.jpg (630×725)

Lancaster. Middle of February. Miserable winter weather. Hattie Brown at home on a Wednesday evening, slumped on a cream, sagging sofa with felt tip marks scribbled on the arm rest and what she hoped was chocolate smeared into the upholstery. She stared past her ghastly neon pink ‘Mum in a Million’ slippers towards the end of the room, towards a full-on view of the small oak sideboard covered in inch thick dust, imprinted with tiny hand prints, and placed on it, a large flat screen television, smeared in something Hattie didn’t care to think about. To one side, under the huge bay window, an oak coffee table, hidden under a mound of Play Mobil characters, CBeebies magazines, several half-finished sippy cups of milk steadily turning into cottage cheese and a styling head doll covered in slimy play make up. Below it, the floor. Now, where was it? She hadn’t seen it for weeks. It was littered with tiny sequined shoes, a pink leotard, purple fairy wings, a wand looking worse for ware and piles and piles and piles of unopened mail, magazines, notebooks and to do lists. Yes, many to do lists. The fireplace, once a source of immense pride and beauty with its dazzling granite hearth, and polished oak surround, now yet another dust collector. The hearth, no longer gleaming but dirtied by heavy rain and hailstones tumbling through the filthy chimney like tiny pebbles dancing through a rain stick. And Hattie, hand deep down in the recesses of the sofa. The remote control, buried amongst crumbs, loose change, glittery hair clips and… something else… maybe a banana skin? Hattie wasn’t sure. With a huge sigh, she pulled the remote control out of it’s burial ground, pointed it in the optimum direction and switched the television on.



Little Girl Talk: Kenniscoots

20141204_192508Splashing and playing in the bath…

Little Girl: Daddy, I need kenniscoots!

Daddy: You need what, Darling?!

Little Girl: Kenniscoots! You know…. (she thinks for a few seconds) kenniscoots!

Daddy: I have no idea what you mean, Sweetheart! Where would you find kenniscoots?

Little Girl: Erm….. in a boat!

Daddy: Do you mean a life jacket? Or a sail?

Little Girl: NO!!!! KENNISCOOTS!!!! (As if Daddy is completely stupid!)

She starts splashing her hands at her sides forward and back.

Little Girl: KENNISCOOTS!!

Daddy: Oh! Do you mean oars?!

Little Girl: Yes!!! That’s what I said! Oars!!

(Little) Girl Talk (previously known as Toddler Talk!)

10422175_10152863123098628_6408966506118892040_nI’ve had to start renaming these blog posts because at four years old my daughter is most certainly no longer a toddler. Particularly if today’s conversation is anything to go by.

Somehow she had managed to get a hold of my make up bag. I’m normally pretty hot on making sure it’s out of her reach but clearly hadn’t managed today. I was busy feeding my little boy and pretty much spent about 45 minutes coaxing, asking and pleading for her to give it back to me (I’ve seen the state if her toy ‘lipsticks’ and where she applies them, and wasn’t about to let her do the same to mine!!)

Eventually the make up bag was back safely in my hands with only a minimal amount of white eye shadow applied to her forehead and nose. “I just want to make myself beautiful, Mummy.” She says to me as if I was being so unreasonable wanting the make up back. So I explained to her that she has little girl make up she can use (which as soon as she received it, the pastel coloured glossy goo was hastily scooped out and smeared onto every inch of her new doll – everywhere, that is, except where make up is actually meant to be applied. “Mummy, I put make up on her eyebrows and nose because that makes her beautiful.” Uh huh. Yes, whatever you say darling….) and Mummy has grown up make up that she uses, I quickly added so as to confirm the fact that she wasn’t to take it again.

This then lead on to a whole new conversation:

“Mummy, when I a grow nut can I borrow your make up?” (‘Grow nut’ being her word for ‘grown up’ which is a darn site better than a few months ago when ‘grown ups’ were ‘dronuts’!!)

“Of course, darling.” (Little does she know that when she becomes a grow nut, I mean grown up, she won’t want to go anywhere near her boring old mum’s make up!)

“Mummy, when I a grow nut I do lots of things.”

“Yes you will. What like?”

“Like….. I drive a car!”

“Yes, of course you will.” completely shocked at the suddenly sensible ideas that were going through her head.

“I …… could teach children like Daddy.”

“Yes.” suddenly wondering if that’s something I should start to discourage now or a little later in life?!

“I ….. sing songs on the stage at church! Like you, Mummy!”

“That’s a lovely idea, darling.”

“Mummy, what else I do when I a grow nut?”

“Erm, you could buy a house!” with a smile on my face.

“Nooooo, Mummy!” she looks at me like it was the silliest suggestion ever. “Not buy a house, silly! I buy lots of TOYS and PRESENTS!”

Of course, darling, because that’s actually what grow nuts REALLY want to buy if we would just admit it to ourselves!! 🙂



That moment as a parent when, you’ve spent all morning in town, ignored funny looks from passer’s by, bumped into a couple of friends, taken your daughter to nursery, been to the petrol station, tried to ignore the funny look from the kiosk lady, picked up your daughter from nursery, had a friend over for coffee, nip to the bathroom and then notice in the mirror…. you’ve been wearing a ‘Hello Kitty’ sticker on your jumper the WHOLE day!!!!



Why I can’t say ‘No’ to my daughter

Thank you Pampered Chef for the 'My Safe Cutter'

Thank you Pampered Chef for the ‘My Safe Cutter’

My daughter loves to ‘help’ me with whatever it is I’m doing. Whether it’s sweeping the kitchen floor, filling in paperwork, hanging out the washing or making tea I’ll always hear those four terrifying words, ‘Mummy, I help you?’ I use the term ‘terrifying’ because they fill me with terror. Obviously she believes she’s ‘helping’ me, but what I actually get is a dirtier floor, toddler scribbles all over passport applications, clean wet washing strewn all over the garden and squashed mushrooms festering in toy kitchen colanders. ‘Help’ from my little girl adds a lot more stress to my day.

However, I just can’t bring myself to say ‘no’ to her. Letting her help makes her feel valued and listened to. In her world she wants to be with Mummy and wants to be like Mummy. It’s something I struggle with because I really can’t understand why she would want to be with me and try to be like me, but it’s simply because I’m Mummy. One day she’ll be much older and the roles will be reversed. I’ll be asking her for help, and if I haven’t said, ‘Yes’ to her when she’s three, what’s to say she’ll say ‘Yes’ to me when she’s thirteen?!

So for now, as I hear those four little words, ‘Mummy, I help you?’ I will continue to take a deep breath and respond, ‘Of course, Darling. Thank you so much for offering!’ 😉


I Yootiful, Mummy!

First day at Pre-School

First day at Pre-School

All parents say their children grow up too quickly. And today I can’t believe that my daughter is moving up to the Pre-School class at her nursery. It can mean only one thing: this time next year….SCHOOL!! (You can’t tell I’m excited can you?!)

My daughter’s speech and sentence structure has naturally become a lot more fluent over the last few months, however I still like to hold onto the little gems she still comes out with now and again because as soon as I correct her that’s it! I’ll never hear her cute little ways of saying things again! 😦

Today as she was getting ready for pre-school she wanted to wear her white flower hair band. She’s had it since she was a baby but it seems to fit her a bit better now :/ After I’d put it on for her she said, ‘See Mummy. I yootiful!’ Yes darling, and not the least bit modest either!! 😀

Another little gem she recently came out with was when were in the car on the motorway. She suddenly said excitedly, ‘Look Mummy! A Boobs wagon!’ WHAT??!! It turns out it was a Booths wagon. The name of one of our supermarkets. ‘Yes Mummy.’ she says. ‘I go to Boobs with Mama (Grandma).’ Hee hee! That made me giggle. 🙂


Hello? Is anybody there?



Imagine the scene: the end of a quiet family tea time. Daddy is chopping up some pineapple for his pudding whilst calmly talking to Mummy about his day at work. Mummy is sat finishing off the last of her yoghurt watching her three year old quietly and carefully peeling off each piece of her banana skin. As the last piece of banana skin is meticulously removed the said toddler quickly whips the banana up to her ear and with a quizzical look on her face says, ‘Hello?! Is anybody there?!’ She then proceeds to have a very random conversation with somebody on the other end of the line! (Bananaman?!?)

Personally I didn’t hear it ring! LOL