Time spent in grandparents’ homes are always magical times. The most amazing holiday. The best that nothing could ever match.
That’s how it is with my children.
My children’s father grew up in a grey suburb in South East London in a row of pebble-dashed houses on a nondescript street called Westbrooke Road in Welling. Not many trees, and I found it quite depressing when I first came here. Where are the trees in the street, the grand houses, the sea breeze?
But over time, that humble house took a hold in my heart. Because my small children thought it was the most magical place in the world. Because it was a magical place for their father, who in turn, made it magical for them.
“Let’s go fox-hunting!” He would say enthusiastically, and the children would reply, “Yayyy!”. They would hurriedly put their coats on and find their torches.
Yes, for this fox-hunting involved walking around the streets in the neighbourhood at night and looking for foxes and shining their torches on them (he is against blood sports). To my children, these nighttime escapades were simply magical (much more than killing a fox) and I know that they will always think about this humble, working class suburb that their father grew up in with great affection and fondness.
Wherever you are in the world, you can share this bloodless sport with your children, hunting for urban wildlife with your torches at night ❤
NOTE: These days, in the UK, because of the destruction of their habitat, you can find foxes and deer in suburban streets. They are actually very destructive and cause many accidents. Here’s an article and photos about urban deer.
But to my children, they are magical, when hunted with torchlights and their tiny hands in their father’s.
Magic is all around, if we have the eyes to see it. My children are indeed blessed. Open your children’s eyes to magic. It’s the best gift ever, after kindness ❤
Main photo: wild stag in Richmond Park, London. All photos are from Daily Mail.
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