Those are your eggs…

On sunday I had a visit from my two god kiddies. We went out for milkshakes and then they came back to my house as Nikki had not yet seen “Aunty Sheenies” new “castle”.

I showed hermaround, explaining that ‘this is my tv, and this is my bathroom, and here is the kitchen, there is my fridge…’ and interrupted by 4year old Nikki, saying ‘those are your eggs’. I actually had to stop and think before moving on.

She didn’t care that I had a technicoloured loungesuite devoid of arm rest covers, or that my curtains (still) resemble clingwrap on glass. The kitchen curtains which seem so hideous to me, weren’t even a consideration to her.

Nikki saw that I had a shiny white fridge, and pretty chinese blankets, and that those were my eggs.

I wish that sometimes we could all see the world through a child’s eye, and not have to over-analyse things as much as we do.

Those were my eggs.