Once were worriers #blogjune

Fi’s training Ró to say, “let’s go, Broncos!”

She turns to me and asks me what my guy’s war cry is.

“Who?”

“The Warriors.”

“Uh, it’s ‘we did really well that one year we got to the finals.'”

Am I still in charge at this point? #blogjune

I’ve been trying to add a little negotiation to the discipline process. I’ve been giving the expectation, and if not met outlining a consequence with a count of three to avoid it happening. It’s not stopped the mischief but it’s making the picking up and so on a calmer affair.

Tonight she climbed up on the TV cabinet.

“Darling, can you get down from there?”

“No way!”

“Please get down, sweetheart.”

“Count fwee.”

Orange: the return #blogjune

Sandwich for dinner tonight, by request. Orange for after.

I get the orange from the fridge.

“Cold?”

“Yes, cold.”

She’s handed the orange to check. It’s cold.

I take it to the bench.

“Daddy orange?”

“Yes, I’m cutting the orange.”

“See?”

I hold up the partially cut orange.

“Yellow orange, blue orange!”

“Well more like orange orange, really. Here you go.”

The oranges are tipped off the plate. I take it away saying:

“OK, no plate but please eat the orange.”

“Plate.”

“You want plate now?”

“Plate.”

“OK, but please eat the orange.”

“Of course.”

Let the record reflect no orange was eaten.

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What happened yesterday instead of blogging #blogjune 18 make up post

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Another Craig one, this time earlier. #blogjune 17

I met Craig at the start of high school. We were kindred spirits, weird and silly. What I liked about him on the first day we sat together in class was that he had a sellotape dispenser he called “Super Snail”.

We got close enough as friends to hang out at each other’s places. There were weird rules at his place. For some reason he wasn’t allowed to be inside the house until his mother or stepfather came home from work. I remember long afternoons sitting in the sun on his back deck, mostly bored. It’s probably where his overactive imagination developed.

Other times, if we had money, we’d go up to the local shops and play videogames. Further afield lay Lynnmall, what we thought of as a big shopping centre in the pre-Westfield era.

We were there one day when Craig had a bright idea for fun. The Farmers there had a set of pick-and-mix bins. If you were quick, you could enter the shop, grab some lollies and be out the door before they could stop you.

The first time was a rush. We got away with a couple of lollies apiece and ate them quickly, proud of our wicked bravery.

The second time, we were followed by a security guard and apprehended outside the door. He asked us if we still had the lollies, which we did. He told us how very serious our behaviour had been and that we had to come back inside the shop with him while they decided whether to call the police or not.

On the way into the shop he said, “Nice day, isn’t it?”

“It all depends on whether you’ve been caught shoplifting or not.”

Mum doesn’t get the kids, twice. #blogjune 16

From Mum:

Once I heard [my brother] Edward roaring with laughter in the backyard of Marshall Laing Ave.

I went out to investigate and he told me you were so funny and asked you to tell me the joke you had just made up. It was about a worm or an insect and after you told it you both broke out in fits of laughter while I stood bemused as it wasn’t funny to me.

It had no punchline that I was aware of but you both excitedly looked down on some creature on the path, that was the subject of the joke, and kept laughing.

___________________

One of Edward and my favourite stories of Mum is from a family Christmas with my father’s brothers and their families.

She looked around the table and said:

“Why on earth are these kids using this new word, ‘wanker’ all the time?”

There was that one time. #blogjune 15 makeup post

I’m walking to Grey Lynn supermarket on a sunny Saturday morning when along the footpath towards us comes my flatmate, Craig. He’s still dressed in his work clothes and it’s apparent he’s been out all night. Well, well.

“Hi Craig.”

“Hi guys.”

Big smirk on his face.

“Guess where I’ve been?”

“No idea.”

“I’ve been out with a bar girl.”

“What’s that then?”

“It’s something they do at some of the Asian bars* in town. They’re not like prostitutes, but if you buy them drinks over the course of the evening you get to spend the night with them.”

“Oh! Uhhh… good for you then, I guess.”

Well, well.

*At this point in time recent changes in immigration laws had resulted in a very large influx of immigrants from a number of Asian countries as well as businesses that catered specifically to them.