That culture thing...

As we were going to meet her brother, Alfons, after school my daughter suddenly pointed and said:
–Mum, who made that... culture thing? (swedish: kultursaken)
–Well, I don't know, I responded. Do you mean that it's an art piece? (swedish: konstverk)
–Yeah, that's the word, art piece!
Well, we couldn't tell who the artist was, there wasn't a sign or such to read it from. But from now on it's our piece of art. We can call it "No title"...

Mamma Ågren

Suppose you do get a bad conscious now and then, suppose you try to compensate for it. Then suppose that others know that the bad conscious is present in your mind and want to see you compensate it a little bit more.

Even when standing in the hallway with my jacket and shoes on my daughter clinged to my legs crying out: –Mum, please don't go!

But since I'm a coldhearted and egoistic being - I left. All of the evening I nursured the bad conscious as if it was the best asset for me as a mum at the moment. But being at the cinema with a friend could mean so much more than that. At the return to the mothership I made two pictures for my kids to colorize. My way of giving peace to myself before going to bed.























In the morning I heard them in the livingroom talking about which colours to use. After a while they wispered and then they jumped into the bedroom with the coloured pictures. What a beautiful sight! And the colours were great, just as I had imagined as I drew the pictures in the dusk.

But then it came: –Mum, read the text! And in the cutest way they wanted me to, for once, let them watch TV in the morning. "A ticket for Bolibompa in the morning. For 2 persons. We demand!"