Categories
Life

Black Cats and Dress Ups

I’ve just been to my little boy’s kinder disco, dressed as a cat. A black one, with some white bits included (because black and white cats are just a little bit less evil than pure black cats, wouldn’t you say?)

We advertised it as a dress-up disco, which of course would mean that upon arrival there’d be a sea of adorable little muffins dressed as Disney Princesses, Queen Elsa’s, Spidermen and all the rest of the Marvel universe— and indeed this was the case. ALL the adorable little people.

ALL the adorable escapism.

And then there were the adults. All very there for their children, and all very kind and lovely and ready to chat. But all very dressed as… Mum and Dad. I was the only one dressed as a cat (meow, by the way, thanks for asking.) And apart from the entire fundraising team, who made the effort to dress up AND run the whole thing like absolute champions…none of the other adults were brave enough to come in costume. ALL the sad faces.

I really do feel so sad about that. Not because we were the only ones dressed up and we looked silly or anything, nothing at all like that. The actual reason for my disappointment is that we’ve broken each other, us adult humans. We’ve judged too much. We’ve labelled too much. And by the time we reach adulthood, the general rule is that we are sensible and that we obey the rules of what it means to be a mature adult.

Bugger-that.

I won’t be silent on this issue any longer, guys. I just can’t—because it makes me way too cranky to think of how much we limit ourselves because of how others might disapprove. I’m going to make a vast call and say that beneath the sensible of most adults lies an authentic human being who is screaming to have just a little more fun than this. 

If you are like me, I’m sure you’ve felt this kind of pain before, and If you are like me…then let this be our war cry. Let’s choose not to care about judgment. Let’s show the ones who are a little afraid, that it’s okay to be exactly who they are.

Please don’t misunderstand me on this. I am absolutely sure that some adults really just do-not-care to dress up, and do not actually want to let the inner child off the leash. I have no judgment at all toward these people— this is them, expressing their authentic selves, and no one could ever ask more of them than that.

It’s the rest of us I’m talking about. Those of us who receive the invite to the dress up party and instantly see ourselves dressed as a Minion.

Seriously.

Let’s do this, guys. Let’s take our power back and let’s be the Minion!

Come on.

You know you want to 😛

boston terrier wearing unicorn pet costume
Photo by mark glancy on Pexels.com

 

 

Categories
Twelve Days of Christmas

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

It’s the second day of Christmas and here I am writing to you!

Surprise! I know. It’s been FOREVER. I’ll try not to leave it so long next time.

I wonder if you’ll even get this little email of mine. Do you have a computer in the North Pole? Do you even know what a computer is? Oh. Ha ha ha. Of COURSE you do, Santa— I’ll bet you’ve given a million of them away, in your time. Maybe even a billion. Well! However many you’ve given, I’m sure they’ve helped to change the world in some wonderful way.

Or not.

I mean, I don’t really know…

Umm. Santa? I truly am sorry I haven’t written for so long. The thing is, somewhere along the line someone told me you weren’t real—which is completely ridiculous, I know, especially considering I can feel you right here in my heart.

I’ll never let you go Santa.

Nope. Not ever. And do you know why?

Because I believe in magic. I believe in the magic of you.

That’s okay, isn’t it? For a big kid like me to believe in you always and forever and always, again?

Because, Santa, you’ve gotta know this: the magic of you lit the fire inside me. The magic of you helped to build me—helped fill me with all the bits of happy—and I am just not cool with letting you slip away quite so easily.

Big kids are allowed to believe, aren’t we, Santa?

I really hope you write back.

I really hope you write back and say, ‘Yes, Brooke, it’s okay for big kids to believe, too.’ Because I think my joy butterflies need you to keep them alive, Santa, I really and truly do. After all, joy butterflies eat magic for breakfast, lunch AND dinner. Without you…my joy butterflies might starve!

Anyway.

I really have waffled on.

I just wanted you to know this, Santa, I haven’t forgotten you. You’re still here, always in my heart.

Always.

Lots of love,

Brooke. (The biggest kid of them all.)

portrait of girl wearing christmas hat
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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Categories
The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 24. The Darling Tree

This is the Darling Tree.

nature forest trees park

Isn’t it lovely?

And oh-my-GOODNESS.

I have an idea!

Why don’t we climb it? Together.

Just like we did when we were pipsqueaks.

Just like we did before we painted our serious faces on.

man in gray suit jacket holding yellow banana fruit while making face

Don’t you remember it? That freedom?

Climbing to the top of the world without a care.

Gasping when we lost our footing; cackling on the ground, relieved to be still in one piece.

Surely you remember it.

We were superheroes, you and me. Chasing the bad guy to the highest branch.

We can do that again.

We can. We just have to decide it.

balance business cobblestone conceptual

Climb a tree, you say. But why? Why would we do such a thing?

Who knows. Who cares! Let’s just climb.

Just so we can go home and make rings around the bathtub again.

Just so that we can say those two simple words again: Why not.

Why not.

Don’t they sound like a river running wild? Don’t they sound…

Free?

Yes. They do. So come on! Let’s fling on our capes and fly.

Up to the rooftops of the Darling Tree.

Oh. And don’t worry. I’ll pack supplies.

We could be gone a while. xx

apple book break color

 

 

The darling blog of May