Keira’s writing is getting excellent. I’m pretty sure you’ll all be able to make out her words on the paper…
Keira: Why are you wearing dad’s boxer shorts around the house? Me: Because mine aren’t fitting very well at the moment. Keira: Why? Riley: Why? (Oh, yes, he’s hit the ‘why?’ stage. Asks it every other minute) Me: Because they’re a bit tight. Keira: Did they shrink in the wash? Me: No. (I wish) Keira:…
This plucky, red-haired, 6pd 12 oz baby (photo taken several months after birth, right before her Christening) just turned 30. I have left my 20s behind, for good; while this makes me sad in certain respects, I am actually not as depressed about it as I thought I would be. Six months ago, I was…
Whenever I am about to go on holidays, I always pack a good amount of self-deceit. For instance, before I left Melbourne, I promised myself I would go for a soul-cleansing walk each day; that nothing but healthy, country fare would pass my lips so by the time for the beach came, I would look…
How many things can my son break in my parents’ house? (Answer – Three: a telescope, a vase, and a camera) How many mosquito bites can my daughter collect on her body? (Answer: twenty-seven) How many ‘books’ can I read in a week? (Answer: three, but two are poetry collections by Phillip Larkin and David Malouf)
Remembering the afflicted; hoping for a cure.
First published June 5th, 2008 The sheets crumple more in winter, I feel. Our bodies sweat as they adjust to the heavier blankets. Sleep may not be as agitated as it is in the Summer, but it is as least as disturbed. Instead of the heat, one of us is invariably suffering from some sort of…
The answer to that questions is: yes, if you’re my son. (Quite a difference to Keira’s reaction to them at the same age!)
Understandably, the 6am flight between Australia’s two biggest cities was full of businessmen and women trying to get that extra snooze in after getting up at some ungodly hour of the morning. So I could feel the inner sighing of some when I hopped on the plane – at the last minute, scraping by –…
