I Must Be Getting Clucky

I was sitting at the tram stop on Elizabeth street just now, waiting for the 57 to take me to Spinifex, and an unbelievably adorable Asian-halfie aged about 4 was sitting next me with her Mum on the other side, sucking on a very sticky looking pink lollypop and staring at my tattoo. She reached out to touch it and her Mum (an example of the kind of parenting I wish I saw more of in public) gently asked her not too because her hands were sticky and I (the lady - hee!) probably wouldn't want to get sticky.

I shrugged and said that I didn't mind, and the child and I exchanged a solemn look that meant we understood each other and everything was chill, and then she informed me with a smile that I had a very pretty flower in my hair (earlier this morning I had jubilantly declared it Spring by plucking some of the neighbours' lavender and ceremoniously shaving my legs). She had little fake flowers on her hair clips too so I told her that we both had pretty flowers on today, and she grinned at me and we were firm friends.

This child and her mother ended up sitting opposite me on the tram, and the child was singing some unintelligible song that had repeated 'dinging' of a bell throughout. She informed her mother, and the riders of the tram at large, that she was going to sing some other songs about bells, and then proceeded to sing a mangled interpretation of Jingle Bells about 6 times in a row. I did not find this annoying, and on the contrary found the whole thing pleasantly amusing. Hormones can do weird shit to a girl.