Bring On the Clowns

We had just returned from the circus.

The Mop was disappointed. she expected it to be more like Madagascar 3. I had explained it was unlikely that a giraffe was going to do the high wire, but she hadn't believed me.

The Bombshell on the other hand, was in raptures. I had spent most of the time watching her watch the circus. She was enthralled.

Even the look on her face when we got sprayed with wood chips from a prancing pony was priceless. The Bombshell had picked the little pieces of wood off her lap, cradling them in her hand like they were jewels.

‘Did. You. See. That?’ she asked. ‘That was awesome.’ She then brushed the sand off her lap into my handbag.

Yeah, awesome.

The drive home was long. As usual, it was a competition between the girls. Who got sprayed with most woodchips. Who got the better prize on the clowns. Who loved it the most.

 

‘I’m going to be a sparkle ribbon girl when I grow up,’ the Bombshell declared.

‘Or maybe I will do the trapeze. No, I will work with the ponies. Or the puppies, that was cool.’

She sighed happily.

‘You can’t do that,’ the Mop informed her. Just to be annoying.

‘Yes I can. Mum says I can be anything I want when I grow up. I just have to try hard enough.’

In the rear view mirror I could see them sticking their tongues out at each other.

‘I can be anything I want when I grow up,’ the Bombshell repeated under her breath.

‘Yeah,’ retorted the Mop. ‘You can be a circus animal.’

Shall I let the Bombshell be a sparkle ribbon girl when she grows up?