The Adoption: Meet Clyde

At the beginning of my new novel Clyde is the youngest of Jane and Darren's children. One January morning at the beginning of the book he invades his parents' bedroom, where Jane is contemplating her wish for a fourth child.

There was a small disturbance nearby. On Roadrunner legs it travelled to her side.

"Hello Clyde."

"Hello Mummy."

"How are you?"

"What day is it?"

"Friday."

"Is it snowing?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He was jogging on the spot. "Do you need the toilet, Clyde?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you go?"

"Why isn't it snowing?"

"Because it doesn't always snow on Fridays."

A debate took place behind Clyde's wide blue eyes. He needed to know something. He needed to wee. Which, though, did he need more urgently?"

"Is January winter, though?" he asked.

"Yes, but it doesn't always snow in January either. Some winters it doesn't snow at all."

There was an interlude while Clyde, six years old, took this on board. What his mother had just said went against all that he believed but, then, she was his mother. He did a cartoon spin and whizzed away. The creak of floorboards reached Jane from above: she watched the ceiling grimly. Then she heard clyde again, this time scampering to the ground floor. "Clyde?" she called. "Did you flush?"

No reply.

Tomorrow: Meet Jodie, the adopted.

Comments

[Clare]

This was one of the bits that really made me think of my mum's books. She too is brilliant at describing everyday adult-child interactions.

It made me think of my son, too. We regularly have similar conversations about snow. He's convinced it will snow on Christmas day, a conviction which hasn't been helped by the weird fact that it did snow in Manchester last Christmas and the year before.

He also gets confused about darkness, and its correlation with morning, bedtime, daytime etc. Hard to explain.

[Dave Hill]

I think we've crossed in the post, so to speak...P.S. Check this site again later, Clare.