Cold Balls

Well the musics over.
Or at least the mid-year holiday/conference season.

And hence we're all back in the Baghdad-end of Hampton and muzzying our way though the final days of winter and, ipsofacto,... the last of the Melbourne 2008 black death.

i.e., Mikes sick again.
Dads sick again.
Mums battling on like the trooper she is.

Still, at least Mike has discovered balls.

Hey, it's no fish gazing in the tropics or tobagganing a hill of primo Hotham pow (dude), but when you discover that you can not only throw but also catch, it's a big step! And hence you do it again and again and (in between nose wipes for spewing ectoplasm) again.

And we're talking serious catching here... arms outstretched and grabbing like a Mark Schwarzer penalty save. (Ok, that may be overdoing it a little... but dads impressed.)

Whats even more impressive though is that this is all being done on the total fuel source of approximately one (1) sultana.

Once again, the boys off his food. Sure, it may have a fair bit to do with being sick, but there's clearly periods we've noticed when food is rabidly consumed and periods when it's simply an annoyance to him.
Apparently this isn't all that uncommon with kiddies.

Still, how he manages to race about like a man possessed with the fuel source of a gnat is a mystery to modern science.

Then theres the box.

It may be the cliche of cliches, but you get him all the toys in the world and he'd rather play with/in a box. Right now he thinks he's changed his surname to Schumacher and has taken to sitting in said box and expecting a wild ride across the polished boards (see video). Oh well... if you cant beat 'em, join 'em; we drew on some racing stripes.

Brmmm... Brmmm...

Postscript: He's started to eat again... but it appears dinner time is now brought to us by the letter "P".
For dad's birthday (Chinese takeaway... we're all class here...), he gobbled his way through Prawn crackers, Peas, Pork balls (sweet and sour) and Paringa Estate (from the Mornington Peninsula) Pinot Noir. He left the chicken, cashews and baby corn. (Clearly his diet is not PC. Boom boom.)

...ok, ok... maybe not the Pinot.




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