Deb's Digest
Debbie Atkinson’s family life column, as featured in the Southport Visiter.

Sunday, 15 May 2011


Roughly once every other month I get an email that says "Good news about your ticket" from Lotto. For the ten seconds that it takes to log onto the Lotto site, I believe that we are at last millionaires. But no, it's another tenner. That ten-second feeling is so good though, that next time I get the email, I think I'll delay visiting the Lotto site for 24 hours - or maybe longer - perhaps the feeling that millions might lie in a bank waiting for me to claim them, is almost as good as getting the cheque. I'll have to consult the psychologist son on that one.

Oscar is now at the age where his truthfulness knows no bounds and if he opens a present and sees that it's something he's already got, he'll say so. When Hugo was born just over a week ago, our daughter wrapped a lovely knitted dog called "Boofle" for Oscar to look after when his mummy looks after Hugo. Our daughter's not aquainted with Oscar's truthfulness so I briefed her, and told her not to be offended when he said "Oscar not want one of those, Oscar already has lots of teddies at Oscar's house." So she was fully prepared when, half way through pulling the wrapping paper off, the sentence was uttered word for word. But we gave Boofle a voice and he sat and watched Oscar having his dinner. When I next called at Oscar's house, during a thunder storm, he was covering Boofle's ears so he wasn't afraid of the lightning and "to keep Boofle safe".  When he visited us this week and opened yet another present from a friend and began to recite his mantra, I explained why it's always better just to say "thank you". Later in the day some cholcolate buttons were received at the door, wrapped in coloured paper. I cringed as he opened the package in front of the donor. "Chocolate buttons" shouted Oscar as though he'd never experienced them before, and he only needed a slight reminder before yelling: "Thank you!" Phew!

The truthfulness also extends to physical peculiarities. As I sat next to him in the car, he pointed to a small (tiny!) spot on my top lip and demanded to know what it was - in fact he stared at it for most of the journey. When he did avert his eyes, he said that Grandad had "very funny hair". When Grandad asked him if he'd rather get out and walk, he said Yes!

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