Bad Things Come In Threes

When my mother came over yesterday, she asked me if I could give her a plate to smash. I mulled it over for a few moments, reacting as if it were a normal everyday question, before answering "actually I'm a bit short on plates mum."

My mother had received some bad financial news a couple of days ago, the day after her car broke down and we all know bad things happen in threes. Unless you smash a plate apparently. Funnily enough I had smashed one only the morning before; I picked up two plates for breakfast, one plastic, one totally breakable, and somehow frisbeed them across the kitchen. I knew I could save one of the plates, but hell, I just didn't have enough time to work out which one, it all happened so quickly, and was left standing with the plastic one in my hand. Anyway, it wasn't enough to break the spell, my mum had to smash the plate herself.

I'm not at all superstitious. I do remember my gran telling me it was good luck whenever I trod in dog poo, which seemed to happen a lot during my childhood. Although I never really believed it, it was a comforting thought. When your shoe is covered in dog shit, you're desperate enough to believe anything to make you feel better.

When I was about eleven, during a school assembly, the headmaster was calling out for pupils to come up and collect their merit badges. Normally there would be a few, but this time there was just one other girl and the next thing you know, I found myself walking up to the assembly stage. About halfway up, I realised I hadn't actually earned any merits, but I just couldn't stop my legs from carrying me up to face the rest of the school. "And what did you earn your merit for?" he asked the other girl. She said something annoying like "Science" and my answer was honest and to the point "Didn't get one." So he sent me back to my place, and on my way back I realised, amongst the sniggers, I could hear "ugh! Gross!" and everyone pointing at my shoe, which was, not only covered in dog shit, but I had also managed to tread on chewing gum which somehow attracted a large red feather. So, just in case, my standing before the entire school to not receive a merit was not enough to attract attention, then here we go everyone, stinking dog shit leaving shitty footprints all the way to and from the assembly stage, but just in case anyone missed that, lets flag it up with a bright red feather. Here I am kids, take your shot. I was mortified, and had to wear the smelly plimsolls from the spares box all day long to remind everyone to ridicule me. When my gran told me later that day that this was a sign of good luck I could have slapped her.


Anyway, back to smashing plates for my mum, I changed the subject, went off to the kitchen to count my crockery and then the third bad thing happened. Ky performed a double somersault off the sofa, but instead of landing on his feet to applause and scores out of ten, he fell head first on to Thomas the tank engine and cut open his head. Down at the hospital, I wondered how many more hospital visits I would be making as a parent. Last time I was here, Ky had pulled his arm out of his elbow socket.

Later I got a text from my mum "on top of it all, my internet is not working!". Aha! A flaw in this superstition. Unless this was the start of another round of three bad things. Uh oh. Where's that plate...