You have no idea how besotted E is with her cousin. No idea. Every single thing that Rowan does she thinks is awesome. Jumping - awesome. Running backwards - awesome. Sniffing snot back up your nose - awesome. We spent the day hanging out together on Tuesday, it being school holidays at all, and I have to admit, he was pretty awesome. Especially to her. He didn't mind one bit that all she wanted to do was hold his hand, sit on his lap, lean up next to him and snuggle. And we're not just talking about for a little bit of the day - we're talking six solid hours of in-your-face toddler love. When he asked why E always needed to be touching him, I said it was because she thought he was the coolest, funkiest boy to have lived. His response? "I'm not the funkiest boy I know; there are boys who dress funkier than me". When he said that my heart jumped into my mouth and I had flash backs to school and the cool-kids and all that angsty stuff that I'm so glad to have left well and truly behind. Part of me thought that he's far too young for all that and I was tempted to just dismiss the comment and pretend that it never happened. Or say some complete 'bull' about how he was wrong and everyone was funky in their own way or some shit like that. Instead I told him that being the funkiest or the coolest didn't matter too much as long as you had good friends. I don't know if it was the right thing to say but it seemed better than a lie. And besides, even if he's not the funkiest kid, being patient enough to tolerate E trampling all over him and his toys for the day - Awesome!
My Dad grows grapes. Not professionally but as a hobby. He planted the vines from seedling almost seven years ago and this is the fourth year he's been able to pick. Goodness me, it's a fickle business this farming! Last year the wind got to most of the blossom before fertilisation this year it was the foxes. Yup, foxes. Despite netting the vines well before the fruit ripened about 10-20% of the total harvest was scurried away by a family who, I think anyway, has taken up camp under the wood shed. Despite the small crop we went up and helped pick a couple of weekends ago. All in all it took less than half a day. E spent most of the time taste testing directly off the vine. I spent most of the time
I am sitting here in a quiet house. This is rare now-a-days. Usually my "alone time" comes when I am going to or from somewhere. And then I'm not really alone anyway. I'm on the train or the tram or walking on a busy street. In this deliciously quiet house I'm supposed to be working. I have a deadline for a project I've been working on for the last few months. I'm a consultant for a project looking at health systems in low and middle income countries. This is a rather fancy way of saying that if I do not produce 'something', I will not get paid. I need to get paid. But in the delicious-ness of a quiet house, on a quiet street on the last day of the long Easter weekend, what I actually feel like doing is eating some more chocolate and curling up in bed with a book. It feels like Sunday. Only it's Monday, and I should be working.