She touches the blood of a devil

Kids’ brains – and their limitless imaginations – totally fascinate me.

Here’s a poem my eight-year-old wrote at school …

It was pinned to the wall in her classroom – my ex spotted it on parent information night and sent me a snap.

(The youngest has the most awesome teacher: Mrs L. This is our third year with Mrs L – the eldest and youngest both had her for year 1 too. She’s an artist turned later-in-life teacher. A school mum friend sent me a message after info night saying: “Have a girl crush on Mrs L. I wish she was my teacher. She’s bubbling with enthusiasm.” We are soooo lucky.)

I’m transfixed by the youngest’s poem.

I love that she describes herself as kind and sporty.

I love that she pretends to win skipping nationals.

I love that she thinks killing animals is bad.

I love that she dreams of flowers.

But … WHY does she touch the blood of a devil??

When quizzed about it, she just gave a shy smile and said: “I had to write something.”

That explains everything and nothing.

Song of the day: INXS “Devil Inside”