On feast, famine and ice cream

Usually there is one child in this house: the boy.

For an hour after school today there were two: the boy and a friend.

Then two more appeared as if by magic, and stayed for a while.

In a whirlwind of shoes, sunhats and water pistols, they were suddenly gone.

Silence.

There was a brief excited visit when the ice cream van arrived, followed by a swift, noisy exit.

It’s just like freelance work: you get used to the rhythm of one or two clients, then suddenly there is a pile of work, then nothing, then a new rhythm begins.

The only thing it’s safe to assume is that when you hit your stride, something’s going to change.  Roll with it.

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