Scare The Kids.

Isn’t kerfuffle a wonderful word? When I’m not having dramas, I am almost certainly caught up in some kind of kerfuffle, the kind of thing that can occasionally escalate in to a calamity, but more often than not causes nothing more than a minor commotion or diddly inconvenience. Life is abundant with potential for kerfuffle…

My hands smell of onion. Despite a bath and numerous old wives remedies, still the sweet stench of the pale pink Rosanna onion will not be ousted. Through the night it disturbs my dreams, my eyes flicking open too frequently to squint at the fingers I have brought up to my face. When I finally…

You get snarky. You get tearful. You cry on the playground and frighten the kindest of quiet, unsuspecting women. Your brain works three months ahead of  possible actualisation and you have to stop over-promising that which you aren’t capable of delivering yet. But you want to please. You want so very much to please. At…