It's loud, it’s small, it’s busy –and I wish, wish, wish that my mummy was here.
Take one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. I remember what my mummy told me to do whenever my head starts buzzing like a trillion buzzy, fuzzy, bees. I keep my head down, staring at my rocket trainers that flash green and blue every time my feet go stomp, stomp, stomp. Other kids push past me as they zoom up the stairs with their mats . They scream, they yell, they whoop. They bump, they push, they shove. Their mats bash and crash into my legs as they rush by, and the buzzing of the buzzy, fuzzy, bees gets louder.
Too loud, too small, too busy - and I wish, and wish that my mummy was here.
I keep following mummy’s instructions until I step outside and it isn’t as loud, it isn’t as small, it isn’t as busy. I step to the side and begin to pat my head–pat, pat, pat– and hold up my hands–open, close, open, close, open, close– just as my mummy showed me, a special spell that lets some of the buzzy, fuzzy bees free from inside my head and fly away.
“Are you okay, little man? Where are your parents? Shall I get them for you?” A lady I do not know approaches me–and I can feel the buzzy, fuzzy bees start to crawl back in.
How do I say it was loud? How do I say it was small? How do I say it was busy? – How do I say that I wish my mummy was here.
She bends towards me, peering into my face–smiling. A very pretty smile, it reminds me so much of mummy’s. I like the lady’s smile. Yet I cannot answer. More kids go running into the giant slide, yelling and screaming, I shuffle further away from the doorway to keep the buzzy, fuzzy bees calm.
The lady looks towards them for a little while, before crouching down in front of me. “It can be a little hectic at a fair, can’t it? Can you tell me your name?” Her voice is kind, and she makes me feel safe. But I still cannot tell her my name.
It’s less loud, less close, less busy - but I still wish my mummy was here.
“Hey! Tommy–what’s gone on?” Dad shouted from behind the nearby bars. Noticing him, the kind lady squeezes my shoulder as she stands to approach him. I could hear Dad talking to the lady–who reminds me of mummy, but is not mummy–in the distance with his usual grizzly voice. But I just kept looking at her smile, and her smile made me want to smile too.
The lady walks back to me. “I think I know something that may be much more fun, how about we go and grab your dad and I’ll show you the way. Would that be okay, Tommy?” the kind lady smiled at me as she gave me her hand.
I took her hand, held it so tightly. I wanted to hold onto her for just a little longer.
Cause it feels just like it did when my mummy was here–and all the buzzy, fuzzy, bees are gone.
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