Today I have blogging block. Yeah, I know it is unlike me.
Perhaps you were expecting to visit and find some witty analogy or cute goddaughter story, but that's not what I got for you today.
Okay, maybe I have. But it's not a goddaughter story.
I was thirteen when my first little girl cousin was born. I remember cuddling her, and her falling asleep on my shoulder. When she was about three-years-old she hated having a bath, getting water in her eyes scared her. So I created a story for her.
Actually, I picked up a grey flannel and created a character called (wait for it) Mr. Flannel.
My elderly grandparents had a seat which fit across their bath. This 'bridge' was Mr. Flannel's home, and he lived under it. Anyone walking across -in this case a toy plastic swan- had to give him soup (bathwater in a plastic dish that we gave 'flavours'). If he hated the soup, he'd splash it over my cousin screaming it was "Yucky soup."
If he liked it - Tomato or chicken was his favourite - then he'd eat it.
"Yum yum, nice soup."
My cousin loved this game. Every time she visited I had to perform Mr. Flannel. When her sister was born four years later, Mr. Flannel was introduced to her too.
I swear it wasn't my fault, the older one made me, and I'm too soft to say no. :)
Now, you'd think they would be embarrassed by this story, but they aren't. Even at seventeen and thirteen they still talk about the time I used to play Mr. Flannel with them.
And they smile.
And I smile. It made them happy, so I'm happy.
I never realised how a simple flannel and a bowl of "soup" water could create such a memory for two little girls. It was just something I did to stop them crying when my aunt washed their hair.
I guess it is the simple stories that stay with us.
*Mr. Flannel has since retired to a wonderful home for old flannels. But I'm sure his offspring will appear in the near future for my nieces.