Again. I have another one for you.
I have a lot of these red-faced stammer moments. I’ve only realised just how many there are since I started sharing them with you.
So here it is:
A few weeks back I was talking to a school mum who I had just met. We were discussing children’s bedrooms and how her girls share a bedroom, as do mine.
Of course I had to elaborate and went on to tell new school mum friend that:
“Oh, My sister and I shared a BED all my life. Until we were grown up. Nothing wrong with it. Brought us closer”
Not until I notice my husband staring at me. You know. The disconcerting stare. Making me uncomfortable. What Mr F? Am I naked? Do I have spinach in my teeth? Had I just broken out into a moonwalk/backspin combo? (which I can do very well by the way – ha).
Then it clicked. Did I just say bed? Oh ha.ha.ha. Nervous, embarrassed laugh. Quick backtrack. I meant BEDROOM! Honest. Yes bedroom. Shared. Not bed.
And then? In the ensuing conversation, I go on to mention at least three more times that I meant shared bedroom, not shared bed.
End result. I think due to my over-compensation of non bed-sharing, new friend thought that of course we must have – otherwise I wouldn’t go on about it so much. Either that or she thought I should get over it.
Yes I should. I have.
* For the record, my sister and I never shared a bed.