Martin arrived this morning to help me with my shopping, he’s such a good little boy. He cycled over. I’ve been encouraging him to ride a little more since a taxi frightened him by blowing their horn as he cycled by recently.
He rang the bell of the pink bicycle he was riding in my yard and came rushing in.
“Auntie, you won’t believe what I have between my legs,” he said excitedly.
“Really?” I said a little surprised.
“Oh yes, Miranda said I could borrow her bicycle. It’s much bigger than mine and it’s fun to ride.”
“Of course it is, Martin,” I said, “and don’t let anyone ever tell you that size isn’t important. I especially like the pink tassles and the unicorn motif. How kind of your sister to let you have a go.”
“Miranda is the bomb,” he replied enthusiastically.
“The ‘bomb’,” I replied. “Is that good?”
“Oh, she’s the best! She let’s me use lots of her things.”
“I am sure she does, Martin,” I said gathering up a couple of bags to take shopping. “Help auntie with these bags, so we don’t have to use those nasty single use plastic bags in the store. We care about the environment, don’t we Martin.”
“Yes, auntie,” said Martin.
We climbed into the car and in a moment were off to get the groceries. After a quick run round the shop to get some organic vegetables and a few tasty treats we came home in time to see Fiona and her personal trainer Sebastian going for a run. They stopped outside my house in Huckleberry Close for a moment to catch their breath.
“Good morning, Martin,” said Fiona to my nephew. “How are your parents, I’ve not seen them for a while?”
“Oh they’re very busy this morning. They’ve been upstairs banging since I woke up,” came his innocent reply.
“Really,” I replied, noticing that Fiona was looking a little confused standing there in her little tennis skirt and trainers, her chest still heaving as she was a little out of breath.
“Oh yes, they’re putting together some new furniture from Ikea,” said the little scamp.
“Mummy’s very good at it,” he chimed in with enthusiasm, and continued “but that it’s sometimes better for Daddy to watch because his tool isn’t very big. She prefers to use her own equipment or get a man in, she says, but she likes Dad to watch. It’s just like you say, Auntie. Size really does matter!”
I glanced awkwardly at Fiona as Martin carried on.
“Mummy’s good with her hands. Everyone says that. She’s very creative you know.”
I said, “I am sure she is. Now let’s hurry in and make some tea. Then we can get some oil and put it on that chain on your bicycle.”
“Mummy likes to put oil…”
“That’s enough, Martin.” I cut little Martin off and hurried him inside. One never knows what these little ones will say next. My nieces and nephews are such little scamps.
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