The -not so- traditional poem

Dear mum of child…

You loaded up your little minions, maybe even some larger ones, into the car on a big adventure.
You parked at a local(ish) retailer who sold car seats and stuff, well knowing this would do nothing for your composure.

Clamping on to little hands who wanted to run and explore, you crossed the street and into the shop you went.
Well knowing the shop would turn into a big gigantic circus tent.

Maybe you didn’t know much about car seat safety. Maybe you did know. Maybe you had a plan written down and specific points ticked?

You enter the shop, the minions go wild… You find yourself wondering – *why do I do this? I should have just ordered online….*

The employee approaches you, a slight sympathetic smile maybe? Understanding shown in the eyes?
While your hand is firmly clamped on a t-shirt, the minion is desperate – he whines and he cries.

Over the rumble of small minion voices, the employee tells you; These are your choices…

Your eyes wander across all the seats, you are in awe, you had no idea…
-BANG! You quietly start humming Ave Maria…

You flick through the seats, knowing full well that time is of the essence,
Minion 1 needs a new car seat before he his head hits adolescence!

You start to panic, where is that list?! You try to dig for it whilst holding Minion  3’s wrist.
Panic is over, you finally found it, but now comes the problem of choosing the best fit.

You try some car seats in the car, all the while your smallest minion is whaling; ‘I want mummy’s milk bar!’
The employee – now almost done – suddenly yelp as he’s hit in the face by Minion2’s half eaten hot cross bun.

You are mortified, the minions laugh hysterically. Lucky for you – the employee is in no need of therapy.
He wipes his face and shakes a grubby chubby hand, a smile on his face showing understanding first-hand.

Eventually, the car seat is bought, the minions are in and the adventure home can begin.
-SWOOSH-… it just missed you, hitting the dashboard full force.

WHAT was it you ask? A little minion’s half eaten, half chewed, three-week-old banana of course…

post-divider-for-blog1

We’ve all been there…here’s to you. /cheers!

http---signatures.mylivesignature.com-54493-256-30B462DBC56D538492F19D5672D8C28F

The -not so- traditional poem

Prose for Thought