Pandy and Andy create a baby...

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Where's the bucket?

Ok, this bigtum post is somewhat ancient now - as in written pre-Xmas 2010. But hey, it contains stuff, it's a record of life, we wrote it and forgot about it (sorry). A Xmas and beyond post will come soon...

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In the list of firsts in the last blog there was one that we just missed being able to write about.
And its the cutest one since pussy wore a bow while gentle patting a baby big eyed harp seal who's cuddling a guide dog puppy. (Where's the bucket?)
First real kisses from from Little Miss S.
As in a bit of a pucker, and a bit of a sloppy 'MMmmwumph!" when she makes contact.
Its enough to turn an old man to jelly.

While this shows her soft and tender and loving side, there lurks on her shoulder the evil twin.
The one that likes to hide stuff.
Thus far we've discovered all of dads business cards transplanted from his wallet to the wastepaper bin at Nana's place, shoes deposited in the cabinet under the laundry trough, and clearly the most evil of all - the remote control deposited in the dirty washing basket. Thankfully (only at childcare) we hear that she likes to deposit items into the kiddy toilet. And we're not just talking number twos.

Still, these treasure hunts haven't just been confined to the infinite annoyance of a missing remote. The recent hard rubbish collection perfectly coincided with two things; 1) Mike wanting to ride a bike, and serendipitously, 2) some exact kiddie-growth integer from a previous Christmas or the like, as the second most disposed of thing (after old cathode ray televisions) was... 12 and 16 inch bikes.

Hence...
Xmas came early in the Baghdad end of Hampton for every 3-4 y.o kid wanting a bike.
Including Mike.
Hence he is now the proud owner of a Raliegh 'Gravity', complete with "flames!" decals, foot brake, and training wheels (partly worn). We've since learnt there is an entire field of science/engineering with the training wheels. For instance, riding along the Elwood foreshore track we came to a section that was move like a 'V' than flat, ostensibly so any water would run down the middle and into a drain. Of course what Wally the engineer doesn't realise is that a training wheeled bike ends up with a training wheel either side of the V, and the rear wheel dangling above the ground spinning furiously and pointlessly, with a rather consfused kiddie up top.

"Dad, it wont go. Can we buy a new one?"

Little Miss S, of course, wants to go too. She'll sit up on her trike and hope for the best. Though being 2 foot nuthin' means she cant reach any pedals, even if she knew how to turn them.

We wish we could say all this physical exercise was keeping us healthy.

Yes, there we were, all bubbling along without a care in the world, when mum was met at the gates of the childcare centre but a young lady with genuine fear in her eyes...

"Dont come in" she pleaded... "we'll bring your kids out to you."
"Mmmmm..." thought mum, "this cant be good."

Turns out the plague had hit Sandringham council childcare, and all we can imagine is the insides of the centre were coated in a liberal painting of that days lunch. But Mike seemed fine.

The operative word there being "seemed".

Cos that night dad put him to bed.
"Come and lie down with me dad..." asked the boy.
"Ok..." said dad, and lay on the bed next to the boy.
"So, what did you do at childcare today?"
No answer.
Boy sits up.
Boy looks at dad.
Dad looks at boy.
"You ok?"
Boy looks at dad.
Boy looks surprised.
Dad looks confused.
Boy chunders on dad. And the bed. And the pillow. and... well, you get the picture.

The next few days saw the mop, bucket and pine-o-cleen brought out on several occiasions, and hence the house became truly spotless in-so-far as germs/bacteria are concerned.

Poor lad.

We've also learnt somethign from the experience - the boy wont use the loo for number 3's.

There he was, having yet another technicolour yawn on the floor, when dad scooped him up and ran for the dunny. Only when they arrived the boy announced "NNNNooooooo!!!" and kicked and flung and fought, all while chundering at the same time. We think 10% may have made it in.
Lesson to mum and dad.
Stick with the bucket.

The poor tike was so sick that when Dad arrived home from work one day to find the boy comatose on the living room floor - fast asleep. But surrounded by trains. Even Thomas wasnt able to get him out of this pickle.

But that wasn't the end of it.

Poor Missy Moo (a.k.a Little Miss S) also came down with the lurgy, and hence made her deposits round the house as well. At least they were smaller.



Just when she recovered and various parents breathed sighs of relief...
Dad woke with a grumbling belly and whammo (at least he was able to make it to the toot).
Mum, thankfully, was mostly spared.

Where's the bucket?
A great way to close out 2010.