Baby starts school - well sort of

Today we had a trial lesson at Gymboree. For those of you not in the know, Gymboree is like a childrens play/learning class although I'm sure they'd come up with a better one line description. You pretty much take your baby along to a class once a week with a bunch of other mums and their babies (all around the same age) and play little games and sing songs etc.

Squirmy really liked it for the first half hour but then we did an exercise where you lie the baby on the ground under the play equipment and shine a torch on the different coloured material that's draped over it. He started screaming as soon as I lay him on the ground. So we sat out for the last 10 minutes while Squirmy had a nap to recover from the over stimulation. I was pleased to see that by the end of the 45 minutes, almost all of the babies were getting cranky, so it wasn't just Squirmy.

The proper term starts next week, so Squirmy and I have signed up for the lessons - I hope he enjoys it and can keep the screeching to a minimum.

Just your average 6 year old

My 6 year old niece, EJ, has been staying with us for few days and I have to say, 6 year olds are quite funny because they have the attention span of your average house plant.

It takes nearly 30 minutes to get dressed for school because on the way to the bedroom you have to play with the cat, look at the dead lizard on the floor, find your favourite pencil at the bottom of your school bag, find auntie because you have to blow your nose, see if the dead lizard is still dead, pull faces at the baby, show the baby the animal noises book, show the baby the dead lizard, show the baby the cat, ask auntie for a drink of water etc.

The only negative about 6 year olds is the amount of dirt that they accumulate - it's quite amazing. EJ takes her shoes off in the bathroom and then I take them out side and empty out the dirt and sand. The only feasible explanation for the sheer amount of dirt she accumulates is that she actually rolls in it. After her bath, I actually have to wash the topsoil out of the bathtub.

The baby is really enjoying her visit too. When she has a bath at night, I buckle Squirmy McBaby into is his little rocker chair and leave him in the bathroom with her. She's sings him little songs and tells him about school that day while he lies there cooing and laughing. It's very cute.

The baby goes on holiday and takes us with him.

We got back to Brisbane last night after our extended weekend in Sydney. It was a big weekend for birthdays - with Buster, his twin brother (who lives in Sydney) and his brother's partner all on the same day. Buster's brother invited us down for the big birthday gala event which was held in their flash little terrace house.

On Friday we caught the bus to Circular Quay and then caught the ferry across the harbour to Taronga Zoo. I'd never been to Taronga Zoo before and it was really good. I know the baby enjoyed it enormously, although he did sleep through most of it.


Saturday night was the big birthday party, so we wrapped the baby up and put him to bed in our bed. We popped up to check on him every half hour or so, but he happily slept through it all. I ate a great deal of birthday cake. It was fabulous.

On the way home on Monday night, our plane was delayed but they managed to fit us on an earlier flight - which was also delayed. By the time we finally got on the damn plane, I was knackered. Some people get so cranky when flying don't they - there was this guy with sunglasses on standing at the front of the line to board the plane and they called for people travelling with infants and small children to board the plane first. As we walked past, the guy was giving us the filthiest look - for pity's sake - if you have a baby or small kids, you are usually the last one off the plane so it's not like we had some huge advantage. We saw him again at the baggage pick up - he was still wearing the sunnies and was picking up his Louis Vuitton suitcase. I tried to get the baby to puke on him, but the baby refused to co-operate. I so wanted to tell him that Louis Vuitton was chavy.

The kleptomaniac cat

The cat has struck again but this time she is stealing from our kitchen. This morning I noticed a bunch of yellow stuff spilt over the floor under the table.


Further investigation revealed that the yellow stuff was actually a bag of polenta that I had foolishly left on the shelf over the microwave. She'd pulled it off the shelf and chewed through the bag. We finally found the bag, half-empty and chewed to bits, under the spare bed.




After spending half the night dragging a bag of polenta around the house, poor Boo-cat obviously needed a pick-me-up - so she went for the coffee beans.


She only chewed through the bottom bits that are sealed together so we didn't have a caffeine crisis this morning. I think her lack of opposable thumb is the only thing that is holding her back from taking over the house.

Coffee dreaming

Apparently the time has come for me to learn to use the coffee machine, or so I am told. Buster may live to regret this idea. Last night I dreamt that I was in charge of making the coffee.

In my dream, Buster had given me lessons on how to do it and that this was my first time to do it alone with no help. I got the cups out and then couldn't remember what I was meant to do next. I forgot to put fresh coffee in the little thing and started making the coffee using the used coffee. Then I realised I had the wrong sized cups and as the coffee started to come out, it was spraying all over the kitchen. I tried to refill the little thing with new coffee while coffee was still squirting through. I managed to tip the ground coffee all over the bench and floor. Think Lucille Ball in the chocolate factory. Then Buster came in to see how the coffee was going and I was trying to stand in front of the mess. "It's fine", I kept saying, "it's fine".

Wait for the big old man sneezes.

Just watch for the tongue.