Write on Wednesday … chose your own adventure

3 o’clock. An unexpected early afternoon at home. It was a warm but overcast afternoon. How to enjoy the extra time?

A trip to the shops. A time filler. An afternoon treat. Toddler’s favourite. We set off. Man, woman and child. Oh and the cat. At the bottom of the drive we encounter our first hurdle. The road.

Walk on the path. Walk with daddy, hold his hand. Off we go again. Back on the path.

Oh look here’s the cat. Following. The toddler wheels around to see the cat, then races for the road.

It's a slow procession

We are hold hands with the small boy between us. His legs swing, his shoes scrape the concrete. He twists and wriggles in our grasp. One hand and then the other wrenches free. The small boy pokes at a tiny moth lying prostrate on the footpath. A tiny victim of spring. The man leans down to tell the small boy all about the moth. He pokes it gently. Its damaged wings flutter pathetically but it is too broken to fly away.

Walk on the path. Hold daddy’s hand. I say these words over and over again.

The small boy wriggles free again. Takes a few rapid steps into a front garden. He runs around in circles all over the lawn which is still settling in. I notice the strips of turf haven’t matted together yet, the lines are clearly visible.

Eventually we all make it to the top of the strip of shops. I see a flash of grey and white dart into a shrub across the road. Our cat, sits crouched and anxious, waiting. We make our way down the wide footpath. Every sandwich board is carefully inspected, hidden behind. Each piece of street art examined in minute detail. I am impatiently pacing back and forth trying to encourage my unruly band to follow me toward the supermarket. But there are dogs to pat, rubbish to be picked up, sculptures to fondle. There is absolutely no urgency to the journey. I am the only one who is impatient. I shift from foot to foot. Check the time. Try once more to drag the toddler a few more metres down the footpath toward the supermarket. I am wearing myself out. He turns and runs back to me. His cold hands wrap around my legs and he buries his face in my skirt.