1. On Sunday at church, Tiny Miles spied a woman who had changed into her running clothes so as to jog home. Her top, while eminently respectable, was sleeveless. Miles took one look, pointed at her upper arm and squealed, “Naked!”
We’re Reformed Baptist, dude, not Closed Brethren.
2. “Chop your own wood and it will warm you twice.” Henry Ford. Sooth.
3. On the internet today someone advised the wives of the world to show appreciation for their husbands by pre-toothpasting their toothbrushes for them, to give them a little frisson of Caring and Thoughtfulness when they stumble into the throom of a weary morning. Now, I realise I am not the veriest paragon of a wife, and therefore my opinion counts for little: but nevertheless: Que?
4. Last night we had the fire going, and I asked the pig if she wanted to roast some shmallows. Always alive to the romance of a situation, she was very keen and insisted we find a blanket to snuggle under for maximum cosiness. “Mummy, this is so beautiful and nice,” she sighed rapturously as I opened the “Reduced to Clear 99 cents” Pascalls retrieved from the dodgy bin at Pak’N'Save.
I put a shmallow on the skewer and handed it to her. She extended it cautiously towards the flame and tossed it in. Puzzled, I retrieved it and toasted the shmallow. I then handed it to the pig.
Whereupon she gasped and said “You can eat them?”
Me: “…Yes? What did you think you did with toasted shmallows?”
The pig, shrugging: “Just burned them up, I guess.”
5. Yesterday we went to the zoo. It was fun. It was long. By the end of the trip we were all a bit past it, and dragged ourselves round the supermarket wishing we were elsewhere. Especially Miles. As I was searching the likker section looking for $6.99 plonk for the lamb chops, he started to throw a tantrum and loudly wailed to the world “Whissskeeeeyy! Whissskeeeeeeey!”
6. Just heard Miles crowing “Bad baby!”
Helpdesk Man and myself, in unison: “What did you do?”
Miles, smuglier still: “VERRAH bad baby!”
Still haven’t found out what he did. Ah well. I’m sure it’ll make itself hideously obvious at some point, like the pens he posted into the grille of the fireplace.
7. This morning in bed Miles crawled over, gave me a big sloppy kiss and then shouted fiercely “SO! CUTE!”
8. A question for the single ladies. Or gents. (Hey! You should meet up.)
Would you choose to meet and marry a woman (or man) of stunning beauty, impeccable intelligence, functional not not obtrusive fertility, a clean police record and comely financial prospects, with a wonderful sense of humour, cleanly in habits, domestically gifted, politically sane, etc, etc - in short, the perfect woman (or man); if you knew that after 40 years of blissful wedlock, he or she would suddenly flip out and kill you?
I asked Helpdesk Man this question and he said “Sure”. “What if it was me?” I said, and he went “Ehhh…”
I cry at night, sometimes.
9. Dammit! As I was typing this, Tiny Miles fossicked through my bag and found my lip balm, which he has been strictly forbidden to touch on account of he pokes his fingers in it, and if a girl who wears neither makeup nor heels and has never had a massage, facial, manicure, pedicure or more than a triannual freakin’ haircut can’t have a nice smooth unmolested lip balm surface with which to caress her cragged and strinky lips, what is the point in being a woman?
Anyway, so rather than trucking off with it sneakily like a regular baby, Tiny Miles put the whole thing in his mouth like a cigar, made sweet hooty noises until I looked at him, then beamed and went away. It took my typing-addled brain a full two minutes to catch on; whereupon I tracked him to his sister’s bedroom. He was sitting, pantsless, in a little wooden wagon, beaming with delight and holding the unopened lip balm out to me. He is a bad baby.
10. In a fit of health, I just made Baked Cauliflower Poppers. Tastes just like French fries, she said. She lied.