‘On The 4th of May, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in the morning, the time and date [was] 01:02:03 04/05/06. That won't ever happen again in our lifetime.’ Fabulous. There will, however, be more emails such as that one to enlighten our screens with hard facts and profound wisdom.
Smiling Sunny Melbourne. Yes, the Commonwealth Games are over as well. I loved them. I’ll write about that another day.
And there's been Easter. Hope it was lovely for all. We got away to the country - luckily for Mip, the Easter Bunny knew that. I can only hope the Easter Bunny was wearing his thermals when he planted all those Easter Eggs because I reckon it would have been bloody freezing outside our cabin before daylight.
Back to the Catalogue of Days. My little Girl isn’t little any more. Prep isn’t what it used to be. They don’t just read ‘The Three Little Pigs’ they analyse it and discuss the grammar used in the text. Now it’s all about Connie Confidence an Petey Persistence instead of Kevin-Kick-Your-Arse-If-You-Don’t-Listen and Hillary-Who-Do-You-Think-You-Are-For-Having-An-Opinion.
Says I to Mip the other night re: Big Brother on TV. “I don’t think I want you watching this show. Those girls are being nasty to each other.”
Says my daughter, five years in body alone, “Well, they’re only playing a game, Mum.”
The Boy is very pleased about Big… (oh was it big Brother???) this year. His fiancée is not so pleased about that. And he has a bit of time on his hands or at least on one of them, after his car decided to play ‘rock, paper, scissors’ with a pole and a tree. As a result the Boy's hand was wired and plastered up a bit like a
Prosperity Cat.
In hospital, I looked at my lanky giant and he is still my little boy, frightened and vulnerable. So I pretend I’m not the same. I walked past his bed and made waving jokes.
My new job and some groovy new projects have kept me distracted but scattered. Good thing there's the beasty who is still lodging at Chez Husky Nutmeg. We have our issues - I keep trying to convince him that while it may be possible to balance on everything from my printer to the curtain rails, he should not assume this automatically turns every surface of my home into a launching pad. He, on the other hand, finds it amusing to lunge at my face while I'm doing my yoga in the morning. Despite all of that, he’s grown on us all really, even on my brother who would normally pretend to be oblivious to white, fluffy things. Yep, the Tigster is a bit crazy and a bit weird so really - he’s in the right place.
