The Plane Less Taken...

No, not the Bus yet, Mummy's a bit snowed under.

However, yesterday was a day of celebration, as for the first time T1 and T2 elected to separate themselves for an activity at school.
For Golden Time (the half an hour reward activity at the end of the school week), T1 of the flying feet stuck with Country Dancing, whilst T2 of the flying pencil has gone for Making and Writing a Book. Might not sound like a big deal, but though they are not quite the limpet brothers they do like to be able to see or feel the other's presence.

So T1 was full of the Gay Gordons and Canadian Barn Dance last night, while T2 sat on chair and decided a 'poem was coming to him'. Which he then wrote.

Now I'm a bit miffed about this, as he appears to have slipped effortlessly into a form I'm still just playing about with, the prose poem. Maybe a generational thing. There has been no Mummy editing.

A Train, A Plane And What Happens In Your Brain

A train makes your brain click and clack around the track and even when the train is slowing your mind just keeps on go-go going, minutes feel like hours, hours feel like days so I’m not going on a train ever ever again. Next time I think I’ll go on a plane but planes are too plain and simple and when it swerves and swoops you’re going to be sick. The food is so horrible and when you have a lick the plane begins to stop and your ears go pop-pop-pop. I’ll maybe use a boat but when it is afloat it might sink and then in a blink the boat so big was suddenly gone and then all is done and when I’m conned, never ever again. I think, just think I’ll use a car.