If you ask any parent their idea of fun,
It would most likely NOT be an icy school run.
I peered through the window at seven this morning,
The Arctic had landed. Without prior warning.
The car was a snowball.
The road looked like glass.
The path had transformed to a treacherous pass.
Not a soft fluffy landscape of blankety flakes,
But a sheet of disaster, fit only for skates.
I concluded the car was a definite NO.
While I cursed sodding Elsa for “Letting It Go!
So we got ourselves ready in plenty of time.
(We all know that’s a lie for the sake of this rhyme!)
And cocooned in our boots, each with hats on our head,
We bravely embarked on the journey ahead.
Now walking with my two is awkward at best,
So throwing in ice is the ultimate test.
Three steps in it’s clear this logistical farce
Can only result in this mum on her arse!
The Boy’s tiny legs are all over the place
Each step brings the ground rather close to his face!
The Girl spots her chance to command his respect,
With some new “accidental” skid-stunts to perfect.
So with Bambi in one hand and “Skidz” in the other
I maintain a firm grip on The Girl and her brother.
But my thought-out approach doesn’t turn out as planned,
As the small one starts shrieking “NO DON’T HOLD MY HAND!”
And snatching his paw free, my now sobbing tot,
Won’t hold, but can’t move, so remains on the spot.
The big one breaks loose and skids off way ahead,
I turn to the small one to coax him instead.
Each singular footstep is painfully slow,
Like herding two frogs through a mountain of snow,
With every step forward a whinge and a skid,
As I try to make progress, each arm full of kid.
But somehow we make it – despite all my fears!
With no broken ankles and minimal tears.
With one now at school the odds shift in my favour,
Just one can be managed – whatever behaviour!
And so we head home with a shove and a nudge,
Back to the icy path, back through the sludge.
Back we both trudge at a centipede’s pace,
The Boy now has snotcicles hung from his face.
“My hands are too cold” he observes with a shriek,
I reach out to hold them, too frosty to speak.
More tears and more tantrums, refusing to shift,
Just reaching his arms up demanding a lift.
I intently ignore all his loud pleading sound,
(It’s a bloody long way from my arms to the ground!
And if clumsy-arse here were to icily slip
There’d be two of us needing an A&E trip!)
Our journey continues, him sobbing / me sorry,
That no, he can’t actually have an “ice wowwy”!?
(Yep – you read that right. He wanted an ice lolly. You couldn’t make this sh** up!)
But after forever we reached our front door,
With new found respect for a carpeted floor.
Freed from our wellies we did a high five,
Me somewhat relieved that we’d made it alive.
No sooner had each of us started to thaw,
Than it’s time to go pick up the big one once more!
But this time I’ve sussed it, no boots for this mum!
Just throw me a tray – I’ll slide there on my bum!
And proudly co-hosting: