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Dew Drops



He walks behind me, dragging his feet in wellies that are on the wrong way around. "I don't want to walk! I want the car." He yells at me.

I stop, turn and face him and respond with what is feeling like close to my last shred of patience for the day, "Honey, we need to walk.  We don't have the car amd walking is the only way to get home from town."

"But I want to be home.  I'm tired of walking. I want to play."

"I know.  But the fastest way to get home and play is to keep walking."

As I turn back to Georgia in the pushchair, out of the corner of my eye, I see his arms, clad in his blue stripy jumper, fold and his foot stomp. "I DON"T WANT TO!!!!" he shouts.


I feel the heat rising in my stomach.  We aren't even half way there.  Its brushing 4pm and dinner needs to be started soon before the evening craziness of dinner/bath/bed.

Those common thoughts start in my head 'Why does he have to do this to me?  Why can't he just come? I am so tired of fighting."

As I turn back around to face him, I notice drops of water hanging off the tree in front of me.  I hesitate.  The tide of anger pauses for a moment as a new thought crosses my mind.  The camera is in the pushchair.

I pull it out and start taking pictures, attempting to focus on the tiny droplets of water swaying gently in the breeze.  He walks up to me.  "Whatcha doin'?"  I show him the picture on my screen and explain that I like the way the water drops look like fairy lights.

He agrees they are nice.

I ask if he can find any other droplets in the trees as we head to the river.   



He looks, and importantly, walks the rest of the way home.  

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