Speed Racer
24 May 2011, 19:57
... and they said her chubs of lard would preclude her from being an athlete…
Permanent Link | CommentsDear 2011
12 March 2011, 15:34
Dear 2011,
So far, you suck rat’s piss. In fact, you know the Golden Turd in Asakusa? Yeah, you remind me a bit of that. Without the gilded coating.
It would be greatly appreciated if you could remove the stick from your arse and provide us with some good news stories for a change.
Love and kisses,
Kinki
P.S. I do thank you for my beautiful family and friends, though, and for making sure all our larger posse still living in Japan, Christchurch and Queensland are safe. Some of our Japanese friends had to sleep at work, others reported that they were safe but weren’t able to reach partners and children for many hours, but at least they are alive.
Maybe there’s some hope for you after all.
Permanent Link | Comments [1]Letter to Sage #3
5 March 2011, 19:38
Who Me?
Dear Sage,
4.30am is not an acceptable wake-up-for-the-day time. You made your dad, who is the most patient of men, groan “God Help Me” and he’s not even a religious man.
Love, Mum (who got an extra little sleep-in thanks to aforementioned dad).
P.S. Waking up and howling like a banshee every couple of hours during the night is also not on. That is all.
Letter to Sage #2
24 February 2011, 20:03
Dear Sage,
You are so not keeping us up all night trying to roll without actually rolling when you’re awake. You are going to roll today whether you like it or not.
Love your sleep-starved Mum.
P.S Lying on your side in a halfway roll and looking at me with a blank stare does not cut it. I know your cute chubba butt cheeks are mostly lard but you’ve really got to haul them over in order to roll. Just sayin’.
Permanent Link | Comments [1]Rocking the Gingham
8 February 2011, 20:08
Today was Scout’s first day as a Primary School Preppie. There were no tears (hers or mine), just a lovely excited buzz amongst the kids and parents.
I think there may have been some tears in the staff room with some of the other mums but I was surprisingly unemotional. A tear didn’t even threaten the corner of my eyes. I was happy. Proud that we’d done our job and raised a lovely, sociable and confident (albeit bossy) girl who was not scared to make new friends or be the ringleader in any mischief or fun she gets a whiff of.
She started the day with her socks rolled down, rocking her gingham uniform (I never thought my daughter would be so excited by navy). By the end of the day, some of her prep peeps had their socks similarly styled.
After school we asked her teacher how the day went. Her first comment?
“She talks a lot doesn’t she?”
Ah. She is the duck. School is the water.
