The Things Kids Say (And Husbands Don’t)

So, it’s Sunday morning and owing to a (yet to be proved right) rubbish weather forecast we are actually heading down to town from our hill-top hovel rustic cottage rather than out to the mountains for our usual weekend climbing.

In honour of the occasion (and just in case I bump into anyone I know) I decided that a bit of spit and polish was in order. The Spanish are very big on appearance and cleanliness. You will even see young children in play parks wearing things like impossibly clean light-coloured woollen suits with smart leather boots and perfectly coiffed hair. (This is a country where the hospital midwives take your newborn infant for his first bath and return him reeking of the baby cologne that now slicks his sparse hairs into place.)

I, by contrast, spend my life in either ragged, chalk-covered climbing clothes or tatty, muddy gardening gear. My son is dressed almost exclusively in hand-me-downs from English friends – all great gear, but decidedly more casual than that which Spanish children would wear on a Sunday outing. And likely to be accesorized with dried-on food stains/mud and odd socks. I confess, I am a slack mummy. You get the picture.

grubby baby

That’s a combination of climbing chalk and good old-fashioned dirt he’s sporting

Back to today. I conscientiously selected a matching outfit and shoes for the little prince and combed his hair neatly. I excitedly donned my favourite jeans and black sweetheart neckline top with a smart new brown cardigan that I bought in the sales this week (my clothes shopping excursions average about once a year so don’t underestimate my excitement at this.) I even accesorized the outfit with a lovely brown craft necklace that my friend gave me for my birthday in June, that I had yet to wear. So yes, I felt pretty good walking down the stairs to head out into town.

On seeing me my 2 year old virtually did a double-take. ‘Mummy bootiful. Smart,’ he said approvingly. Which, of course, melted my heart and confirmed to me the boy’s genius (natch). Did also tell me something about my normal levels of presentation but for now we’ll gloss over that.

I was quite excited to see the effect that ‘smart’ me would have on my beloved husband but, I think you already know where I’m going with this, he didn’t notice a thing. I mean, come on, if a two year old can notice I’ve made an effort?!

Or maybe I’ve just trained him too well to rise above the superficial valuing of a woman on her appearance? Sure, it must be that…..right?


  1. Very, very sweet post.

  2. Lovely post!

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