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Aspiring to be more than just "a Mum"

Hey guys, this is a bit of a random thread to post, but as a mum of three (including one year old b/g twins) I have found myself in a sticky position in life. I enjoy being a stay at home mum but to be honest if given the opportunity, I would much rather be working and I do long for that sense of greater purpose again. But childcare is a massive crutch and at the moment it's simple not an option. So, anyway to cut to the point, as a primary school teacher I have always been inspired by Roald Dahl and fancied writing a children's fantasy book, and what better time to give it a go! So I've written the first chapter and am dubious about asking for feedback, but I thought I should just bite the bullet and see what happens.. so here is the introduction and if anyone would be so kind just to give it a quick read and give me some realhonest feedback, good and bad welcome! ..... 

Harvey Hicks was about as average as an 8 year old boy could be. Harveys life was in fact so boringly average and so dreadfully dull, that he would often create fantastical stories about unimaginable events, claiming that they were true. For instance, on one rainy Sunday afternoon there wasn't very much for an 8 year old boy to do, and well... long story short, Harvey found himself in a marshy mudcake, tangled in a terrible bind to a makeshift den in the garden. The den was made from purple stripey bedsheets and some broken tent poles that had been left to rust in a dusty corner of the shed, but in all the chaos the simple structure had been compromised and collapsed to a squelchy heap, snarling Harvey inside. When his mother asked what he was doing soaked from ear to toe, entwined in a now boggy pile of her most expensive linen, he would go on to eloquently explain how several murderous pirates had stormed his tiny blue bedroom in a whirlwind of fire and fury and that subsequently they went on to force his hand into a bloody battle right there in their very own modestly scruffy back garden. The den, of course, necessary for retreat; if it was so needed. But of course Mrs Hicks wasn't convinced or at all impressed.
"So, that would explain why your little brother and sister are currently having worms washed out of their nappies would it?" She scolded.
On another occasion, Harvey insisted that he himself had been witness to a real living and breathing unicorn, gallantly striding down Dilly Drive. The elegant, mythical creature made quite a pace towards town, just as Harvey tucked himself into bed. This event he claimed was accredited by the trails of rainbow glitter slime coincidentally found the next morning dotted along the neighbours otherwise completely prestine front lawn. Upon discovery of the rainbow slime, Mrs Truffle was said to have turned a radiant shade of tomato red. Of course she suspected it was the impish games of that culpable criminal child next door, 'The Hicks boy' as she often called him. Mrs Truffle wasn't the only one to suspect that Harvey Hicks' inventive explanations were merely fabricated excuses, used to avoid getting into trouble for his artful adventures. He would create these fables so often that no one believed very much of anything that Harvey had to say.
Although they had often merited his unparalleled imagination and applauded his unequivocal commitment to the piles of porky pies that he proclaimed (and they certainly couldn't deny his obvious intelligence), his mother and father quickly grew sick and tired of his tall tales altogether.

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