Sometimes I think we forget their sheer potential power. Words can upset us, encourage us, inspire us, infuriate us, make us fall in love - and out of love presumably.
Young Faris is a Man of Few Words, unless he is writing the blog when he puts over his points of view using an extensive vocabulary that belies his tender years. He does, however, chatter away incessantly in his own
language, which possibly owes much to being brought up in a multi-lingual household. His favourite made-up word is "nyod" (or, occasionally, nyody) which roughly translated means "I need!" He is a very Nyody Person. A day of being needed by the Rampaging Rascal
is fun but tiring, as his older cousins - often called upon for Faris Watch - will testify. One day, however, Our Rascal will stop grabbing our hands and dragging us off to fetch something which is just out of his reach, all the time telling us: "Nyod! Nyod!"
And how we will miss it. Honestly, we will.
Hazel Bagel, who is near the other end of the Grandchildren Age Spectrum, can be just as bewildering. She tells me I am now a member of Team Nutella. I am presuming,
based solely on the fact that Nutella is a "delicious hazelnut spread" that I must be in her team which is good of her as I am not necessarily the person who gets picked first when it comes to Team Selection. What I don't know is whether there are other teams,
and whether they, too, are named after varieties of spread. Is there, for example, a Team Marmite? If so, I can only say I am pleased to be in Team Nutella instead. Even if I don't know what team membership will let me in for. If and when I find out, I shall
be sure to let you know.
Going back to the topic of words, have you ever found yourself saying the very opposite of what you mean? I'll give you an example from a very long time ago when I found myself delivering,
in the pouring rain, copies of a newsletter I had produced to a village shop. "Have you many more to deliver?" the kindly shop-keeper enquired. I sighed, melodramatically and answered: "I've hundreds more of the wretched things to shift!"
Mr B, who happened to be accompanying me on my deliveries, waited till we were outside the shop before taking me to task. Why had I said that? he demanded - when he knew for a fact that I was rather proud of my newsletter and
spent many hours researching, writing, sourcing photographs, designing and seeing it through to final production. I didn't have an answer for him but it was a good lesson learned. It's so easy to create the wrong impression with just a misplaced word. I couldn't
exactly go back into the shop and take the words back.
The Middle of the Darling Daughters has a lovely story to tell about the power of words. Whenever she is out and about with Faris and The Twinkles, they
inevitably attract attention. As Faris would tell you, it's all down to the Double Adorability of Twins. Everybody, but everybody, exclaims: "Wow, you've got your hands full!" To which my daughter has found the only possible answer is: "Just a bit!"
The comment is always kindly meant but it suggests that sympathy is somehow called for. I know his she feels because I find people say the same to me when I am out with some or all of the Little Welsh Boys, and they
are running, jumping, leaping off walls and generally bounding about like over-excited puppies. I want to say: "Look what fun they are! Look at their incredible energy! Look at the way the Biggest One will give the Littlest One a piggy-back when he can't quite
keep up with his older brothers! (Even the Duracell Bunny needs a helping hand occasionally.) I certainly don't need sympathy when spending precious time with these amazing boys. Nor does the Middle of the Darling Daughters, out and about with her Trio.
Then yesterday a very elderly gentleman shuffled up to the Big Purple Buggy and gazed in at The Twinkles who - true to form - beamed back at him. He smiled at my daughter and said simply: "Lucky you!" What did she say?
"I know - thank you!"
It was a very special and unexpected encounter. For my darling daughter never, ever forgets how lucky she is - despite the disturbed nights, the mornings which begin at 5 a.m. when most
people are still snoring away, the rampages of Our Rascal and the fact that The Twinkles always crawl off in opposite directions from each other.
She is still pondering on it, that kindness and complete understanding
coming from such an unexpected quarter.
The Power of Words. Never underestimate it.