Does your Husband ever say 'Good Lord'...?

It’s been a struggle to write this week. Not through lack of material, motivation or spare time but purely because I have so much that I could put into this blog that it’s taken me a week to narrow it down to one thing. I dithered between focusing on the three year old who will sit quietly for the majority of circle time but erupt every now and then with a quote off the box such as ‘You’re des-PIC-able’ or ‘What you chattin’ about?’ aimed at myself before breaking his scowl into the most glorious little smile then resuming his interest in the story or munching carrots whilst slurping on his milk. Then there’s the little girl who looks round the room with wonder every time she is called, wide eyed and responding with ‘but that’s my name!’ as if she has been spoken to by a messiah. Or I could tell you all about our attempts to take the Nursery Class photo this week, but I don’t think I’m quite recovered enough to talk about that one yet…

In the end I decided to regale you lovely people with a story that seems to have found its own personal little fan base around South Wales, after a friend of mine burst into hysterics over it last week and has decided to (practically) splash it all over the local tabloids. It’s not actually early years, but I thought that 6 was close enough. And it’s well worth bending the rules for this one!

So, I’m in class, it’s a pretty regular day, I’m trying to encourage little Sammy to focus on his compound words with promises of an extra slice of orange at playtime or getting to choose his favourite book for story time. I’m congratulating myself when the bribery works and he immerses himself in his task, his nose practically touching the tabletop as he scrawls his name across the top of the page. I allow my gaze to drift across the room, ensuring that Sammy’s peers are all as equally involved in their work, when I feel a tugging on my sleeve. Looking down into Sammy’s eager face I give him a nod to encourage his question, at which point he frowns and opens his mouth.


'Beth,’ he begins all serious and concerned about (or so I thought) his compounds.


'Yes?’ I wait for him to continue, glancing at his page to see how far through the exercise he has got.


'Does your husband ever say ‘Good Lord’?’

In all honesty I don’t think I even cracked a smile, so surprised was I at what had come out of this little boy’s mouth in the middle of his literacy session. Instead I decided to volunteer a little personal information, unaware of what I was opening myself up for.


'I don’t actually have a husband Sammy, I’m not married.’ This not being a point of concern to me at the moment, being 26 and enjoying life and unperturbed by the fact that some of my friends have started to tie the knot - there’s plenty of time for all that yet. But obviously Sammy doesn’t share my sentiments.


'WHAT?!’ He shouts out, his frown deepening. ‘But everyone in the whole world has a husband. Except you.’ He adds the last bit pointedly, but I don’t bristle. I chuckle to myself and start to defend my life decisions to this six-year old.


'Well I’m still young you know Sammy, there’s life left in me yet! I might have a husband one day, I just don’t have one yet.’ I wait for his response as he looks me up and down, chewing on his pencil and considering his next line.


'Hmm,’ he grunts, his gaze lingering on my face. ‘Well, I highly doubt it!’ And with that he returns to his compound words, leaving me, I must say, more that just a little bit stunned …