Time for a Walk

Aug 23, 2011 | Blog, Short Stories

It’s that time of the week again – Write on Wednesday.

This weeks topic was to go for a walk & write about it. I’ve been sick, so haven’t been out of the house much, even though the weather is beautiful. So, instead I wrote about an imaginary walk taken with a toddler. I hope you enjoy it.


I jump down the back stairs with two feet while Mummy closes the door and puts her keys in the pocket of her jacket. She takes my hand and we start walking.

There is a small patch of grass near the front gate that has some pretty yellow flowers in it. I stop and take a look. Mummy stands watching me with a smile on her face. The flowers are soon less interesting than the butterfly that flies past. I start to run after it but it soon goes too high and over the neighbours fence.

A dog barks “hello” behind the gate, so I stop to have a chat. Mummy grabs my hand and tries to pull me along with her, but I try and stay with the dog. “Puppy!” I cry as she picks me up, putting me down again a few houses away. I try and go back, but she is holding my hand too firmly.

Soon a pretty piece of paper dances by on the breeze. It’s going the way we want to go, so Mummy lets me follow it. I dance along for a few steps before I spot a snail shell on the footpath. I bend over for a closer look and poke it with a finger. It falls over and I want to pick it up, but Mummy stops me, saying it’s dirty.

I find a stick and run it along a fence. Again Mummy stops me, taking the stick and throwing it out of my reach. She takes my hand as we stop to cross the road. I count the cars – 1, 5, 3, 9, 32, 100 – as they drive past. I jump down the curb when we can finally go across.

Letting go of Mummy’s hand, I run in to the park to play. I climb up the stairs and am half way up before Mummy grabs me. “Coffee first,” she says, marching me back toward to the cafe next to the park.

Waiting in line, I try and head back to the park, but Mummy picks me up. Squirming in her arms, I let my displeasure be known. “Down,” I demand, but Mummy doesn’t let go.

At last Mummy gets her coffee and she lets me down, holding on tightly to my hand. I jump down the step at the door of the cafe and we finally walk back to the park. Mummy lets go of my hand and I run back to the play ground. This time I can finish my climb while Mummy enjoys her coffee.

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