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Diary of a Mummy Kid...

My son "Bluebell."

By Donna FlemingPublished 5 years ago 3 min read
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Blu, blu, blu, I love the bones off you, but crikey boy! My eldest and precious firstborn, unique in every way, so gay, in fact, I'm waiting for the day he utters the words, "Mummy, I've got something to tell you." I'll think, this is it, this is the day, and with a beaming smile I'll say, "What sweetheart?"

"I'm NOT gay..."

Me: "Get out! I'm so disappointed, all that prancing around was for nothing?" LOL! I digress, this is Blu, and this is my evidence...

My two youngest are sat in the car, hats on as directed by their school to shield them from the burning "UK" sun... Blu arrives at the front door wearing pants, one knee high sock, a pair of sunglasses, and the pièce de résistance? A farmer's flat cap. I mean, really? Now, I'm all for individuality, but come on, I'm torn between allowing my son to express himself whilst also trying to prevent him from being bullied for the remainder of his time at primary school... Needless to say, I told him to leave said flat cap at home (It's also hot, who on earth would want to wear a woollen, tweed flat cap on a summer's day anyway? Blu, that's who...).

Britain's Got Talent... Blu announces he wants to apply for Britain's Got Talent. Awesome. I try to explain to Blu that although he is, yes, awesome, he needs a specific talent and that he needs to be amazing at it; which he could very well be with practice obviously... Blu explains that he simply can't pick one talent from his incredible repertoire and that he'd just "bring it" on stage. Again, I try to explain to him that the children on that show practice relentlessly and with a specific talent. Whilst shooting me a glance of death, Blu then accuses me of hindering his talent. I mean, just wow. This is said whilst prancing up the stairs, hand bent at the hip to boot.

Fast forward to an open mic night a local coffee shop is having. I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to take the children. All three are very much "out there," so I thought they'd enjoy it; plus, there's cake and milkshakes, need I say more? The evening went swimmingly. All three had a bash at singing on stage, in amongst some crazy dude singing then reciting poetry about a grasshopper. On departing the café, Blu throws his arms around me saying, "Mummy, thank you! Thank you so much! You brought me here to build my confidence for Britain's Got Talent, thank you!" Oh dear, oh deary deary dear. What have I done? At no point was Britain's Got Talent EVER an inclusion in my thought process regarding our attendance at the open mic night. That and Blu (my love, my life, I love you, I love you), can't sing to save his life, or any life for that matter; in fact, he's a killer singer. I had no choice but to grin with clenched teeth saying, "Oh yes darling, you're welcome!" ARGH!!!! Now, Blu sings ALL THE FREAKIN TIME, all the time, at home. It's dreadful, and I often feel like my ears are bleeding. For me, I think he sounds incredibly sweet singing with so much heart out of tune, for a public audience, however, I'm thinking mob culture, booing, throwing of varying rotten food. Thus, I'm frantically investigating any and all of Blu's other "hidden" talents to replace said singing with. Wish me luck... I need it...

children
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