Don't Get Shirty With Me!

I was rummaging around in a drawer yesterday looking for something to wear.

I came across one of my favourite short sleeved shirts that I'd bought last summer. I had worn it during a few of my appointments throughout the December of Doom. Every time I wore it, we seemed to get some good news like - 'its only grade 1,' or 'the operation has been successful,' etc.

I pulled it out and thought it must be a lucky shirt.

At that moment, the 6 year old came in.

'Don't wear that shirt!' she screamed, holding one hand up like a policeman stopping the traffic.

'But it's my lucky shirt,' I protested.

'No its not,' she said gravely, 'it's your shouty shirt. Whenever you wear that shirt, you shout.'

'Shout? I never shout! And I've never shouted in this shirt.'

The 6 year old then took great pleasure in reeling off all the occasions that I had shouted whilst wearing the shirt...

'Remember when I couldn't find my school shoes? Remember when we were in the car, and no-one would let you out of the junction? Remember when my brother smashed your favourite cereal bowl...'

'Ok Ok, I'll not wear the shouty shirt!' I said. 'I didn't realise that I shouted so much.'

'Only when you're wearing that shirt,' she said disappearing out of the room, 'just wear the stripy one instead.'

I folded the shouty shirt and put it back in the drawer. It was a lucky shirt, a shouty shirt, and perhaps all along it had really been a stressed out shirt. Whatever kind of shirt it was, it was back in the drawer, and the stripy shirt came out for the day instead!