Looks like Grandma was right....

Once upon a time, Mummy jokingly claimed in Grandma's earshot that there were no flies here in Canberra, Grandma replied that she knew for a fact that there was, because she'd seen all the dead ones on our window sills. Watching Mummy cleaning the kitchen today, I think Grandma was onto something.
(Notice our poor, drought addled lawn.....I actually sat on real lawn last weekend - strange stuff, that green grass, strange stuff.)

Happy Australia Day, Mate.

New frontiers to explore

Now that I am a fully mobile individual who can crawl and make my way around the house, our humble abode has been giving up a wealth of fascinating secrets.For instance, did you know that in the kitchen the faux-art nouvea brass planter that Mummy keeps her shopping bags, broom and dust pan and brush in makes the most wonderful clanging sound when you hit it? Or that playing in the bin sends Mummy running and muttering about getting a new one with a lid? Or that you can get your finger stuck in the drain holes in the bathroom, toilet and laundry? Or that dry dog food tastes good?... Real good.

Me and my posse

As seen at Ella's house yesterday.

Bringing down the Matriarchy

The International League of Infant Anarchists are proud to present the 2007 season of guerrilla warfare, subtitled, 'Bringing down the Matriarchy - Mother by Mother'. Our research and development arms have been working their nappy clad butts to the tail bone thinking of new ways to drive your grownups (particularly your Mummys) mad.Now I know that several of my friends have been continuing their work in the fields of sleep, mobility/exploration and nutrition. I, on the other hand have been labouring under the guise of 'separation anxiety'.

I have found that the most effective way of wearing Mummy down has been incessant whinging and crying. Mummy stands up, cue the crying. Mummy sits on the floor next to me, cue whinging and trying to climb to the highest point of her body. Mummy leaves the room, cue full blown screams with copious tears and body wracking shudders (my friend Tamika can make herself vomit at this point...something to work on). However, it is imperative to only display this behaviour to Mummy and occasionally Daddy, otherwise the Mum's group people, the clinic sister and the 'Mandas at childcare might actually believe what Mummy is saying and well, that would be just far too much validation for one day, wouldn't it?

I will need to work on tempering this assault with some moments of cuteness... or my days will be numbered.

So what have you been doing to further the cause and fight the good fight?

Portrait of the Artist.

Thou shall not utter the sacred name of Mummy

For some time now, my dear and darling mother has been mortally ashamed of me. To be more specific, of my language skills.For months I've been waxing lyrical about the virtues of Dad Dad Dad, of Bub Bub Bub and of Nan Nan Nan, but I have steadfast refused to say Mum. Its not that I'm trying to give the poor woman a complex, or to diminish the tender love and care she lavishes on me. It is just the the word 'Mum' is far too special for me to say out loud. Like the Hebrews and their inability to say the name of God....they say Adoni or Yahweh instead.

I cannot utter the sacred name of Mummy.