Mr4 has had another big week. He can now click his fingers and whistle. Even at the same time. It is at once incredibly endearing and unbelievably annoying. He is so very proud of his achievements. And wishes to practise them all the time.
All. The. Time.
His new talents have led to the uncovering of one of my best-kept secrets. I cannot whistle. Not well. Not very well at all. I get kind of a thin, reedy, tuneless squeak. Full of air. Signifying nothing. It is one of my great regrets in life. I’ve always wanted to be one of those girls who casually puts two fingers in her mouth and lets out an ear-piercing wolf whistle. All I end up with is saliva all over my fingers and a red face.
Mr4 is most perturbed about my inability to whistle a happy tune. He is trying to teach me.
“You just make your lips into a circle and blow,” he says, demonstrating. He makes a small noise.
I follow his lead. I make a much smaller noise and do not look near as cute with my lips in the regulation cat’s bum position.
Mr7, who can whistle Christmas carols in tune, looks at us both indulgently. “Just keep practising,” he tells us. “You’ll get there one day.”
Can you whistle? Do you have a ‘best-kept secret’ – one of those things that everyone else in the world seems to be able to do… and you can’t? (I won’t tell a soul, promise.)
[image: I need one of these bird whistles from BKYStudios/Etsy]