Wednesday, March 28, 2007


I nearly forgot my Dad's 60th birthday.
I was eight years old when I saw him first time. Well, that was the first time I saw him and remembered it afterwards. He came with a shiny big car, which colour looked like a palomino to me. He had a cassette recorder in the car and we listened to something, which I can't remember anymore.

When he took me home, I asked him if he could come to my birthday party. He asked me what I would want as a present and I wanted Elwyn Hartley-Edward's The Pony Owner's Encyclopaedia. Definitely, he said.
The next time I saw him was ten years later. It was the same year when my Mum said she bought me the book, which arrived a week later and which I had kept as my greatest treasure.

Today I was sitting on a bench, enjoying of the sunshine and tried to keep myself awake after a sleepless night. I watched my sons driving bicycles.
Suddenly I saw them standing still, giggling and then screaming loudly: "It's coming! It's finally coming!"

They were running towards an ice-cream van, which was playing it's teasingly jolly melody. I had forgotten I had promised to buy them a box of ice-creams when it would arrive next
time and there it was now. I had one Euro and twenty cents, two stamps and some bad tasting Easter candies in my bag. The kids watched how the mother next door bought two boxes. Our neighbour's son came to me and asked if I could buy him an ice-cream. I watched him to go at the end of the line, watching how the mother next door carried his two boxes of ice-creams.
Next time boys, definitely, I heard myself saying. Next time, definitely.


miss-cellany said...

It probably doesn't help; but someone once told me that if you tell kids that the ice cream van only plays music because it has run out of ice cream, then...

That guise is no good when the van is there in front of you though. Have been in too many similar situations with my son in recent days. It hurts.



Dave said...

I feel I should say something terribly supportive here, for clearly you are not an evil wicked mother, but I am very, very tired, and would only muck it up. Have a hig from me, virtually.

Dave said...

See, I said I'd muck it up. A 'hig' is something terribly rude, I expect, in Finnish, and now I've upset you.

I meant 'hug', of course.

BiB said...

Yes, Dave is quite right. You are clearly not a wicked mother and deserve no comparison to your once-every-ten-years father. I send you both a virtual hig and a virtual hug.

Taiga the Fox said...

Thank you all for your virtual higs and hugs :) The new shiny Taiga will dust her shoulders and make a commentary comeback soon, I hope.

Bowleserised said...

That pony book sounds very interesting! Far better than ice cream.