Friday, January 25, 2008

The 2008 Australian of the Year...

is a country and western singer. Hoo-fucking-ray. Or maybe I should have said yeehar!

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

5 Things My Son Has Hidden In The Washing Machine (That I Found While Unloading):

1. Fridge magnets.

2. Plastic blocks and a toy car.

3. Day old toast.

4. Plastic jar lid and a spoon.

5. A nappy.

Monday, January 14, 2008

5 Things My Son Has Done With My Phone

1. Send a blank SMS to Skribe.

2. Make calls to numbers in memory, and then babble incoherently at whoever answers.

3. Make video phone calls to my voicemail.

4. Take a snapshot on phonecam of blurry pavement.

5. Tried to connect to the net, but settled for leaving bluetooth up.

PS* If anyone thinks phone gadgetry is becoming too complicated, they should just leave it in the hands of a toddler.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Five Lies I Tell My Son

1. Pushing all the buttons on the washing machine all the time will give it a nervous breakdown. And then it'll come after you and gobble you up.

2. Toothpaste is poisonous, except when it's on the toothbrush. So stop trying to eat the toothpaste.

3. The sprinklers are sleeping. If you wake up the sprinklers by jumping on them, they'll leap out of the ground and spit venom in your face.

4. Dragonflies are baby aeroplanes.

5. The vacuum cleaner is alive. And hungry. But also blind and stupid. So it's easy to escape.

Monday, January 07, 2008

Oh Yeah!


The boy loves his Brownes Banana Chill.

Puff Bubby

What ya lookin' at homey?

Thursday, January 03, 2008


...because my son is healthy, happy, inquisitive, mischievous, obstinate, affectionate, capable of all this and more.

...because he hasn't been diagnosed with a condition that is hereditary, incurable, and so debilitating that she will probably die in just a couple of years' time.

...because with the shock and sorrow I feel for that other child's parents, there is also relief and gratitude that it's not my child.

There. Said it. It's selfish, and it's true.

And I can't stop crying for her.

There is nothing that can be said, or done. Nobody can make this better. Pity is as useless as it is unwanted. I do not love that little girl any less, not do I love my boy any more, for knowing she is ill and he isn't.

Nothing lasts. We all die sometime. All we can do is make the most of what we have. And to carry ourselves with strength and grace, as her parents are doing.