independent

Tuesday 23 July 2019

Ear, watch out for that stone throwing bird

Ear ye, ear ye . . . the Wee Lad is at it again. His enormous imagination took flight the other day and threatened to take his poor Junior Infant's teacher sanity with it as yet another tall tale came out of his angelic mouth last week. But the white lie out of his beak was bad, it wasn't half as bad as what came out of his ear.

During the good weather last week, which made me wonder whether that was the summer, the Wee Lad's much put-upon teacher decided to get out of the sweatbox of the classroom and take her numerous charges out into the fresh air with a Maths class in the sunshine.

In normal circumstances, that would seem like a very good idea and at least she would be able to turn her face for a moment towards the sun and dream of not having 30-odd screaming weeins to think about.

By all accounts, the exercise was a success and everyone had enjoyed it, except for the Wee Lad who had a major complaint about how he had just been treated by the local wildlife.

On his way back into the class, he told the teacher that a 'bird had put a stone in his ear'. In fairness to the teacher, she has hopefully learned not to listen to every single outlandish thing that a five year old says and initially smiled benevolently at his cheeky face and told him: 'Is that right pet? OK, sit down at your desk'.

But the Wee Lad was persistent in his assertion that a bird had indeed swooped down from on high and inserted a stone in his aural orifice. I have no doubt that the poor young woman secretly rolled her eyes and went over to take a look at this 'stone'.

However, like the Boy Who Cried Wolf, this tall tale was actually true, and she nearly died when she saw an actual stone in the Wee Lad's actual ear.

Straight away, the Wee Lad was brought to another teacher, trained in First Aid, who procured tweezers and gently and proficiently, got the stone out while the Wee Lad sat quietly, which is also a major achievement.

The teacher was obliged to tell the lady, who looks after the kids when I'm working, about the incident. Both of them had tried to get the 'truth' out of him but he has continued to peddle the line about the bird. They had to laugh at his determination to perpetuate the myth about this bird and he has not wavered one inch from the story.

It's an orange bird apparently, as he told both my parents on Friday evening, reminding them, very sincerely to 'watch out and be careful' of this particular feathered menace, so I am absolutely none the wiser about the origin of the stone and how it ended up in his ear.

I certainly hope it doesn't affect his hearing, which I think is bad enough as demonstrated by a discussion about 'tinkies', which is a euphemism in our house for the male appendage.

The Big Lad has been developing his vocabulary in this area over the past few weeks, and we talked about the various words that other people, but not us, use to talk about the tinky.

A few nights later, the Wee Lad is running about in the buff, as he is wont to do, and he was talking about his tinky. 'Look at me' woolly' Mamo'. I said: 'Yes, that's a good woolly alright'.

The Big Lad just threw me a quizzical look which turned into a superior rolling of the eyes because he knew the right words and the ewee brother didn't.

A minute or two later, the Wee Lad was telling me about his 'peanuts'. It took me a minute or two as well to understand that he was talking about. There was no point in telling him the correct words, I was happy enough to smile at his innocence and hope that orange bird doesn't think it's a worm and cause another mishap.

Irish Independent

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