We recently visited a beautiful local abbey near us…. my kids had a great time, we were with friends…my kids were running about looking at stuff… falling out… pairing up… discovering history on the Easter Hunt that the Abbey had laid on… the weather was perfect. It was a beautiful day… towards the end… we began to discover more and more…my youngest (6) found a beautiful worm.
This led to all sorts of great moments, where we explained to her that if we chopped the worm in half… one side would live… my friend said it was both sides, but I am not so sure…We discussed the fact the ground was full of worms. My six-year old wanted to take the worm home. She wanted to keep it as a pet. Play with it and make a …(newly discovered word from the mummies)… ‘wormery’.
To her, this meant putting it in a pot and tending to it… feeding it every day. Talking to it. Loving that worm. All I had was a dog poo bag to put the worm in. We found some twigs and soil. I put the worm in the bag. We took our new friend home. Isn’t life beautiful?
I put the bag by the washing machine.
Three days later. I remembered the worm.
I am so sorry worm. Looking inside the bag there was just squelch… half a worm…a little life I had well forgotten about. I am sorry worm. My six-year old was insensed. Disgusted with me…
“You forgot about the worm…”
She said would never speak to me again.
A little later she asked for some chocolate toast.