‘Come back here you little Pelican’ she mocks, her grin beaming
the littlest Princess tears off at a hundred miles an hour in the opposite direction,
her grin making a perfect pair but where is Belinda?
‘Belinda the Brush is hiding somewhere and I want to brush your hair’
we sing, looking in all the usual spots, the bookshelf, the dressing table, in the bathroom before she’s finally located on the chair in front of us
the littlest Princess settles herself down and we begin the next verse
‘Belinda the Brush is brushing my hair,
Belinda the Brush is brushing my hair’
What will it be today my love, a ponytail or a plait like the witch? A plait.
Julia Donaldson has made an impression so I break into a witches cackle
We have some minor complaints;
those pesky knots require a change of tact, under my magnificent spell the job is done, satisfaction filling my heart, hers brewing the buds of patience, temperance and pride
‘Belinda the Brush is brushing my hair and there’ll be no bullshit there’
I love my littlest Princess. Our destiny entwined like my fingers through her hair
she doesn’t know it yet but Our Lady watches over her with great grandma, and granny working her magic almost daily
I can see all the kids, you and me (and grandma), green grass blue smoke, my Harley
still under wraps – our home, where the heart is resonating in your drums
(Myles), Harken, Madison, Seth, La Donna, Whisky, Carmen, Karmin and Leisa
– our family so far, more to come, perfect!
One day I will learn how to cook and teach my littlest Princess how to knit like Nana