-Well, what do we have here Séoirse? what are you trying to hide? I asked him in a bemused tone, a little indignant that he would dare to hide stuff away from me.
-Nuffin'…really…just me string of conkers. Replied the little fella, a little ashamed to have been caught red-handed.
With formidable bossyness I signaled for him to bring me the object of his passion and to instruct me on the source of his upheaval. Séoirse (sor-cha) was very red-faced and he looked about to explode at my appalling behaviour.
-Well. Saoirse (his sister) wanted to play castle, and she wanted to borrow me string of conkers, and I told her to stuff it, and she told me that I was being very rude and had no sense and that Santa did bring no presents to senseless children, and I felt bad for not sharing but not for defending me string of conkers that I found me-self under the old horse chestnut tree in the farm of Old Murray, when he let me come in to play with his dogs, because it was getting hot and I had nuffin' to do, and Mom had already put out the laundry so I couldn't play under the maple tree no more, and Saoirse got so angry she didn't let me play castle, and told me to stand over here by the apple tree like the senseless boy I was being, and I felt mad and angry because is no fair to take away a man's very own string of conkers!. He ended the litany, much to my surprise, with a big smile on his face. Apparently getting it all off his chest was a good thing.
"Well, I suppose Saoirse is right. Senseless children ought not to receive presents at Christmas, however, I am more upset about your language and your lack of shoes, than you deciding to ferociously defend your string of conkers. For such a remarkably bright child, you need to make more sense boy! Saoirse only wanted to play with you". I tried to explain the vagaries of women affection.
"I don't feel so bad anymore…I suppose I could let her use me string of conkers if she still wants to. But only the ends because it would be hard to make them all fit so nicely like so" replied Séoirse in a sing song voice.
"And really, why after a hundred times of telling you to wear your boots, you decide to go outside in nothing but your socks silly boy? When will your mother find the time to wash those socks?" I inquired with nothing but disgust for the state of such piece of clothing. The vane of my existence.
"Best get on now, I see Saoirse is making mud pies and patting them nice and flat with her skirt". He yelled at me while he darted, grinning, string of conkers bouncing up and down his little body, no shoes, but rosy cheeks and that big, satisfied smile. The little devil.
—Disclaimer. Mr Séoirse is a figlette boy graciously keeping me company. His sister Saoirse will soon make an appearance and they will both be available for purchase as soon as they can fend for themselves. Thank you for paying them a visit in a few days or so.
