So the car trip was lo-o-ong, but we borrowed my dad's station wagon for extra comfort / luggage space and the boys were good. Especially when they were asleep. Cherub got a bit whiney, he hasn't really grasped the concept of time yet. Didn't matter how many times we said all day in answer to his how much longer? He kept right on asking...
There was an abundance of good food at my sister's house, and thankfully I had Fixit to shell my prawns for me despite the scoffings of my sister and brother-in-commonlaw. I know how to do it, I just don't like to. He peeled a stash for me, then began work on his own (chivalry is alive and well, wouldn't you say) but then got so busy talking that he failed to notice that I swiped another 4 from his plate. Heh heh heh. The prawns were for Christmas Eve. For Christmas Day we had roast turkey and all the trimmings, plus ham. Because even though we celebrate in summertime, we enjoy a roast dinner for Christmas and thankfully there was an industrial sized barbecue out front to do most of the work.
Climber was a bit concerned Santa might not know his way round Bronnie's house. So he left him a note. THIS WAY. Such a thoughtful boy; I guess all the other years that poor Santa delivered there he's just had to stumble round in the dark ...
There were puppies. Five of them. Staffordshire / blue heeler crosses, 5 weeks old. Climber was very taken with them and if ever we couldn't find him we'd look out in the back yard. There he'd be, with at least one in his lap. Sometimes sitting on the swing, gently rocking back and forth. Fixit was also partial to playing with them and has the tiny nip marks all over his feet to prove it.
Though between the pups and their mother, the traditional Christmas game of backyard cricket was impeded somewhat.
Cherub quite liked them, but he preferred his boy-cousin's train set. Or playing on the swings with his girl-cousin.
On the left here you can see my step-nephew. (Whose baby brother failed to materialise in time for us to meet him. And is baking still as far as we know.) On Christmas day I was getting to know him by doing a high-5 routine with him : You say High-5 (hand held up high for a slap) On the side (hand held to the side for a slap) Down low (hand held low for a slap before you whip it away to say:) Too slow! Or if playing with littlies you leave it there and say Too fast! So I was greatly tickled when he came back the next day, convinced that my name was High-five. Fixit, he'd say and point. Gwandma Margwet, pointing again. But no matter how much we said No, Caroline for me, he insisted. High-fwive, High-fwive.
There was a lot of family portraiture going on in the backyard and I hope there'll be some super shots from Bronnie's flash camera. Here's one from mine though, my mum with my sister and brother and me on Christmas day. How nice, how rare.
Before we left, Bron gave Climber a ride on her horse, something that her own kids do regularly and with confidence.The trip back was, well, lo-o-ong. As we drove back to Melbourne, Climber whiled away the dullness by composing a letter. To the horse. I think we can safely say that the horse-riding, not to mention the trip away, was a hit.
And here we are back again, in the midst of a foul Melbourne heatwave. In our revoltingly hot house. And me a single parent while Fixit swans off to Mount Beauty for a three day bike-ride-with-the-lads on the New Bike.So remember the wild-eyed screeching harridan from last week's episode? Sadly she's already made a couple of re-appearances. Once because Cherub whinged incessantly about being given the wrong sort of ice cream cone and once because Climber put the heater on after his bath and I didn't notice so it stayed on for half an hour,warming up the revoltingly hot house still more.
