In addition to reading WinterThe Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, I've also just started playing the Lego Star Wars computer game with her. Life goal #36: complete.
And my, she loves it. When we sit down to play, she never wants to stop. The first thing she says to me each morning is, "Daddy, we play Lego Star Wars?" And if that's not proof enough of her devotion, the other night at bedtime she prayed, "And thank you Jesus for Lego Star Wars." Oh my.
Almost had a disaster this morning, though. I'd just woken up and Winter had come in to ask questions about Lego Star Wars.
Winter: Did you unlock any new characters last night, Dad?"
Me: Yep, Jango Fett.
Winter: Who's Jango Fett?
Me: Boba Fett's dad.
Winter: [pause] I didn't know people in Star Wars had dads!
Now, in hindsight, this should maybe have set off some kind of an alarm, but, for whatever reason, it didn't.
Me: Yeah, of course.
Winter: Who else has a dad?
Ok, this definitely should have triggered an alarm, but Winter's favourite character is Queen Amidala, who I'd earlier identified as Princess Leia's mum, so the groundwork for Princess Leia having a dad had already been laid and I carried right on…
Me: Well, Princess Leia has a dad. He's married to Princess Leia's mum.
Winter: Really? Who's Princess Leia's dad?
Ok, let's keep in mind that I had just woken up and my brain was not yet functioning properly, because that's the only way I can think of to explain:
Me: Darth Vader.
AWOOGA AWOOGA. At LAST an alarm went off and I abandoned ship!
Winter: Really?
Me: [pause] Um, well, sort of... but you don't know who that is, do you? Darth Vader?
Winter: The black one. With the helmet.
Me: Oh. [pause] [looooong pause] So anyway. Breakfast?
Look, it could have been worse. She doesn't know the connection between Princess Leia and … some other character who also has a father. And she won't find out that connection until after the… other connection is revealed, so we're all good. As long as I can keep my mouth shut until she's old enough to watch the movies.
UPDATE
Well, Christmas is coming, and I've been looking everywhere to try and find Winter a present that could encourage her interest in Star Waaaaaait a second, what the heck is this?
Princess Vader, you say? Perfect! Ticks all the boxes I can think of. Hmm, only thing is it's a custom job, so if I want something similar I better get to work.
Just finished reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to Winter. Life goal #22: complete.
Next up: Prince Caspian, because the books should be read in published order not chronological order. In my extraordinarily humble opinion.
UPDATE
Haha. Glamma informs me that the reading order for the Narnia series is actually a highly contentious issue that has been debated on the Internet at great length. I shouldn't be surprised—I've been on the Internet long enough to know that almost every issue has been debated at great length thereon—but still, I am. I mean, I can't see how anyone could argue in favour of reading them chronologically—at least, no one who'd actually read the books. To start with the Magican's Nephew is to totally undermine, ruin even, the whole story of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and to diffuse it of its magic. Maybe you could argue for some other non-publishing order, but never chronological.
Merry Christmas everyone. Happy birthday Jesus old mate. How many candles this year? Even with a margin for error, must be at least 2000, right? Oh, that's right: an immortal deity never reveals his age! Forgive me for asking. Awkward.
Anyway, Christmas at my house this year was a glittertastic celebration of pink barbie fairy princess butterfly ballerinas! Looking around after presents time, it was like a rainbow had exploded in the front room. Which was expected, of course. Especially after reading Winter's letter to Father Christmas:
Dear Father Christmas,
Can I please have a Princess Barbie doll, and a fairy doll with beautiful wings, please, and a pink flowery skirt with purple flowers, and a butterfly toy with rainbow wings, and fairy and flower stickers, and, last one, I would like a fairy dolls house. Thank you very much. PS: Also, a Daisy doll like Harper. And I want a new belt for Mum. Harper would like a birdie toy. And a Star Wars movie for Dad. And a ballerina's dress (white skirt with spots and pink top). Also some pink glitter.
Lots of love, from Winter
Yikes. Don't forget the pink glitter, Father Christmas. One of Winter's gifts was actually a princess Barbie with a special skirt that magically transforms into a pair of fairy wings when you lift a lever on her back. Fairy Princess Barbie! What more does any girl need? There's a crossover for everyone these days.
It's not often I wish I had a son (in addition to my two wonderful girls), but I must admit Christmas is definitely one of those times. Thankfully Kate had mercy and got me the Boba Fett Mr Potato Head: Spuda Fett. He was outnumbered 50:1 by a legion of Barbies, ponies and fairies, but when he emerged from his packaging Winter grabbed a (previously purchased) Spudtrooper and began waving it around making laser noises! Don't know who she picked that up from but, mystery (I assume) boy, whoever and wherever you are, THANK YOU. :)
I must say I was impressed Winter thought to make requests for others in her letter; although I'm not sure what Star Wars movie she was thinking about: there ain't none that I want. Still, thought that counts. :)
Merry Christmas.
UPDATE An alarming development: Winter just pointed a miniature, brightly coloured Polly Pocket coat rack at me and shouted, "Bang, bang, I shoot you dead!" My! Who has she been hanging out with?
After dropping Winter at playgroup and Kate at the hairdresser, Harper and I spent an hour or so wandering around the beautiful Fitzroy Gardens.
We lay on the grass and felt the warm sun and cool breeze on our skin. We collected pine cones and made a tower, which Harper promptly kicked over. "Do again, Dad? Do again? Knocky over?" We headed off the main path and up a narrow track that wound through the trees. And stumbled onto a teenage couple like fully makin' out on one of the secluded benches. With no apparent desire to stop. Oh. Um. Harper, look there's a duck back there behind us, shall we go and look at it? Yes? Good.
We watched the duck preen its feathers and then we threw twigs and leaves into the pond. Or rather, Harper threw twigs and leaves into a pond; I tried to restrain her enthusiasm and keep her from falling in. "Harper, waaaaait!" (She didn't fall in.) We chased the myna birds and told them to shoo. Nasty birds. We picked up sticks and whacked the metal bands around the trunks of many of the trees. We picked flowers for mum and took turns taking photos of whatever caught our eye. Harper by me.
Me by Harper.
Clearly she shares my fondness for photos with the heads cropped out.
And before I knew it, all too soon, it was time to go. Back into the car and back to collect Kate and Winter. Then some lunch.
Took Winter to see Toy Story 3 today; her first ever trip to the cinema. I'm not sure who was more excited. I just love Pixar and everything they make, and Winter couldn't believe she was going to see "a TV bigger than our TV bigger than our house even!"
When I first asked her if she'd like to see Toy Story 3, I was surprised she already knew it was out. "How have you heard about Toy Story 3?" "It's on vanilla, Dad." "What?" "Toy Story 3. It's on vanilla yoghurt." A victory for the marketers there, I think.
I was also surprised when she told me we should get popcorn at the movie! She's never been to a movie and she knows you're supposed to get popcorn? As we stood munching away while waiting in the queue to get in, she surprised me yet again when she said, "I think that's enough popcorn for now, Dad." "Oh! You think we should save some for later?" "No, I think you've had enough." Next time she can buy her own.
Going in I was quite nervous. I was very much looking forward to this film, and really didn't want to be fielding "Who's that? What's that person doing?" questions all the way through. Or worse, "Dad, I'm bored. Can we go home?" Anyway, I needn't have worried. Winter was perfect, and so was the film. As Jim Gaffigan said, "Brilliant. Is there anyway Pixar can be in charge of all entertainment?"
Yep, once again Pixar have exceeded my expectations. Predicting the usual disappointing follow-up, I groaned when Toy Story 2 was announced, but it was great! So great in fact that I couldn't decide which of the two I liked more. And it's the same with 3. While building on what's gone before, Pixar have once again crafted something entirely new. All three stories are filled with adventure, humour and genuine emotion, but they each have something unique that gives them a character of their own. Unlike a certain other trilogy, Pixar haven't remade the same film or just doubled the size of the villain. They've made the effort to craft new characters and develop a story that, while working with familiar themes, places our heroes in a whole new world. And each time they pull it off. Magnificently.
I can't think of another trilogy/series in which I'm unable to pick a favourite, or rank the films based on order of preference. Star Wars? Empire, New Hope, Jedi. Indy? Raiders, Crusade, Temple, and the other one. Toy Story? Um, well… it's a three-way tie! Lord of the Rings is about as close as I can get, but even those I could rank if you pushed me.
The three Toy Story movies sit together so well it's like they were always intended to do so. They're three acts that blend seamlessly into one. And Pixar make it seem so easy. When you're watching 3 you wonder how else it could have been done, how could the story be anything but what it is here? But reading about an alternate plot that was developed when Pixar lost the sequel rights, I realised how easily it could have been so different and, imho, worse. The "recall" plot doesn't sound convincing to me, and thankfully it was recalled itself, and Pixar were put back in charge.
For them, making movies really doesn't seem to be about the money, it's about the story, and so I can't imagine we'll ever see Toy Story 4. The story's been told, told well, and now we're done. And that's not a bad thing. I could happily watch these three for the rest of my days. They're just so good. Thanks Pixar for all the joy.
I decided to head into the city last week to take Big W up on their crazy offer of $20 iTunes vouchers for $10! Yes, I will have some free money, thank you! Always up for an adventure, especially when a trip on the train is involved, Winter said she'd like to come along too. Fine with me! Let's go.
Once we'd picked up the vouchers, we held hands and wandered the streets and lanes of the city. We moved among the masses of people and wondered where they were all heading. We explored all manner of shops and their colourful wares, from multilevel department stores to hole-in-the-wall boutiques. We travelled up and down the Funny Stairs (escalators) wherever they were found. And we travelled up and down the Funny Stairs. Wherever they were found. And up and down. Up, down, up, down, up, down. Alright, Winter, are you hungry? How about some food? Yes!
We bought some cheese and ham croissants and sat on a bench outside the State Library to eat them. We made up life stories for the statues around us and how they got to be there. We took photos of our shoes, the grass, and the crazy man getting lost in a flurry of pigeons and seagulls as he tried to feed them. We walked down alleyways and looking at the bright and colourful graffiti, trying to decide which design we'd most like to have on our bedroom walls. And then, when Winter's legs began to tire, we headed down to Melbourne Central Station and jumped on a train for home, mum and Harper.
One of Winter's favourite songs is that old classic, I'm A Little Teapot. She's been singing it all the time of late, and will often stop and point out things that remind her of a teapot. Which is all fine, cute and wonderful when, for example, she's pointing at one of Kate's earrings...
...but not so good when it's at one of my Batman figures.
She even grabbed the Dark Knight and poured him like a teapot. Come on, Winter. A little respect, please. Teapot? Prrrrffbbb.
Although, to be honest, I have always found this pose a little awkward. I'm not saying he does look like a teapot, but he does look somewhat like he's in the middle of a posing routine. Can you believe how much he is in heaven? But heaven or not, he's always seemed like he was missing something, and it wasn't until I moved house recently that I realised what it was. Unpacking all my Batman figures from their moving box, I put this one up on the window sill next to my desk. Then, in a moment of serendipity, I noticed the dangling cord of the window's blind, and suddenly everything swung into place...
Simply couldn't imagine a more perfect spot for him.
Right. I think I fancy a cup of tea.
UPDATE "Heaven" link above updated to actual video on YouTube. You'd think I would have learned to stop linking to static text-based pages of quotes when I did the same thing over two years ago.
I was playing Duplo with Winter this morning when, completely unprompted, she asked me to make a "Batman car"! I have, to my knowledge, had no direct conversations with her about Batman, so this request came as quite a surprise. A pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. And double-plus bonus points, Winter, for requesting a Batman car, and not a freakin' Batmobile.
The final result looked something like this...
...until Kate knocked it from the table to the floor and smashed it back into its constituent parts. Trying to reassemble from memory was a tricky job, but I got close enough (and may even have improved my original design), and Batman car Mark II, as seen above, was photographed the second it was completed.
I'm not saying the Production Design team for The Dark Knight should have given me a call, but for having only a handful of large plastic blocks (and not one of them in black), I think I did a pretty good job. Winter, at any rate, was suitably impressed. :)
UPDATE Guy, in comments, has suggested a certain similarity exists between my humble creation and a vehicle that was used as part of the pre-game entertainment at the 1991 AFL Grand Final.
He’s even sent through an image he’s mocked up to support his case.
I hate him for it, but I must admit, he does have a point. A twisted, vicious, nasty point, but a point nonetheless. The complete horrifying spectacle can be seen on YouTube, of course.
Watch it if you must, but be warned that Angry’s vocal stylings are not only stomach-turning, but also highly contagious. Playing the clip in at work resulted in continued boisterous outbreaks of ‘Bound for Glory’ around the office throughout the afternoon. And even after several hours plugged into my iPod attempting to deprogram my brain, I still caught myself humming the tune aloud as I travelled home on the train that night…
The only positive I can find in this sorry mess is that, besides a brief slog up the bloody Kokoda track a number of years ago, it would appear that ultimately Angry was bound for nothing but obscurity. Phew.
Oh, and this follow-up from Carlton Draught is pretty good, as well.
UPDATE 2 CK just emailed me, asking: "As Bat-Man was created in May of 1939, I wonder if this might have been his first Bat Mobile.."
"Just imagine him hunched over the wheel in hurry to the latest crime, as the car pottered along.. honk honk.. he he.."
I was thinking he could well have been right, but then Guy sent me a link to The History of the Batmobile, a fascinating site that details every incarnation of the vehicle over its long and varied history. Sadly CK's suggestion was not to be found, and the earliest model they list looks more like the sort of car Tintin would be getting around in than Batman...
That really is just an exceptional design. Sleek and menacing, and completely free from the tacky Elvira-style adornments that mar so many of the other designs. My word, there have been some fruity designs over the years, of which this design from 1974 is arguably the worst...
Not in the least surprised to see Robin behind the wheel of that one. Although it's at least not as disturbing as this ghastly design...
...which keeps bringing Se7en to mind for some reason I'd rather not dwell on. Better to dwell on the positives, like the Tumbler model from 2005's Batman Begins.
It's completely over the top, sure, but it's anything but silly. It radiates power and menace, like a crouching tiger, poised and ready to strike. It doesn't have the grace of the Furst model, but when you're tearing across rooftops and smashing through walls, who needs it? :)
Take a wander through the site if you get the chance. It's well worth it.
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My sister emailed me a little while back to ask if I knew that Nicole Richie had named her newly arrived daughter Harlow Winter Kate? Happily the answer was 'no', as I do try to keep myself unencumbered by any awareness of the goings on in the life of Ms Richie. I'm just relieved that my Winter blossomed into being first, as I couldn't stand the possibility of people thinking I plucked the name from the empty head of Nicole.
And, on that note, my sister also wanted to know if as I already have a Kate and a Winter in my family whether I was considering Harlow as the name for Harper? Again, no, but glory, her jest was too near the mark to be funny. Thankfully Nicole took the "-low" road and a crisis was averted.
And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, my sister-in-law tells me that a co-worker of hers asserted confidently on hearing Harper's name that we got it from a new character on Lost! Now, not that Harper was named after Harper Lee (or indeed any Harper), but I despair of a world in which the author of a classic of twentieth century literature is overlooked in favour of some recently arrived, incidental character on a throw-away TV serial.
UPDATE: Also falling in to the category of "Ignorance is Bliss", the Age SuperQuiz today featured the question, "In which year did Ray Martin win his third gold Logie?" Two points there I was quite happy to concede.
We're just popping off to the hospital to pick up a baby. Back soon.
UPDATE: Hup. We're back. Got one.
Please allow me to introduce you: this is Harper.
And unlike Winter who, appropriately enough, turned an extended hot spell cold on the day of her birth, Harper's brought the heat. Nothing but high 30s and even into the 40s since she arrived last Monday. We don't hold it against her, of course, we're just glad that she's here.
Winter has been able to point out and say 'bird' for a while now, so I thought it was time to move onto advanced bird spotting, and have started using family names, eg, magpie, crow, seagull, etc, instead of just the generic 'bird'. With some degree of success, as well.
But as we were wandering around Fitzroy Gardens the other week I began to notice a very common bird that I couldn't name. "There's a... bird," I pointed out to Winter. "A... brown bird... with bits of white and black. Look at that brown bird with bits of white and black."
My Dad always taught me that every question had an answer, so I contacted Adrian the avian aficionado, a decidedly non-twitching friend of mine who's knowledgeable about such things, and asked him what that bird was.
"Indian myna, most likely" was his reply. "Introduced, and generally considered a noxious pest for their tendency to tip native birds out of their hollows (i.e tipping the babies out and then taking over – imagine if some introduced species came and did that to you!)"
Well, indeed! And so when Winter and I returned to the Gardens this morning we made sure to flick our arms toward any mynas we saw, saying, "Boo mynas! Go away mynas!" and, though we were mostly ignored, I think we got the message home to a few of them, at least. We were careful, of course, not to say "Go away Indians," as we didn't want to be racist. Particularly at the moment given this whole "monkey" tension between Australia and India. The last thing I wanted during a morning stroll in the park was a race riot.
Oh, poor, poor neglected blog. Do not despair, you've not been forgotten. Brand me not a fickle whore; you remain my one, true online love. Facebook has come, but Facebook and its myriad apps and incessant poking will go; rest assured. Huh. Facebook. I guess we now know that adding ninjas to something doesn't always make it better!
So I think I need one mega stream of consciousness blurt to get myself up to speed and back to the present. Although I don't know if it's really worth the bother as with Number 2 popping out some time in the next few months, there'll likely be even less time for blogging than there is now? Oh, which reminds me: I've been meaning to post the 20 week ultrasound image and continue my tradition of drawing unfavourable comparisons. Tell me, for instance, if you can see anything in this image other than a Simpsons' character? I mean, look at that overbite.
Oh wait, that's not the original... um, oh, here it is:
...but still... not much difference between the two to my eye.
So, I just returned from a holiday with a group of friends in Marysville, and arrived home to discover the front door wide open! No signs of burglary, so I can only assume that when I deadlocked the door as I departed I didn't give it the special up-and-to-the-left shove it requires to really click home. Whoops. The screen door was snibbed, but still, if you'd looked up as you were passing you could have seen right down the hall into the bathroom! (Actually, it's a bathroom that needs an eye kept on it.) Funny thing was the local paper sitting on the doormat featured a cover story on Darebin's "burglar curse" where it quoted RACV figures showing "all Darebin suburbs other than Reservoir are well above the state average of one burglary for every 48 homes." A fact to which my fly-wire door will (if prompted) attest! Perhaps the burglars were away on Christmas hols as well?
Oh, which reminds me: Christmas! Happy belated approximate birthday Jesus! You don't look a day over 2007. Hope your day was especially Awesome!!!!
Oh, which reminds me: I've been meaning to post this cartoon that I enjoyed recently:
Always nice to discover others who share your particular irritation.
Which reminds me: while you've got to hand it to the Breast Cancer Foundation people for such an amazing job generating awareness and support for their cause, I wonder if their success is to the detriment of other worthy causes? With their string of high-profile, pink-themed public events and an array of pink-coloured Special Edition consumables so vast you could live your life purchasing nothing else, it's easy to overlook the smaller voices crying out for attention as well. As I say, I don't begrudge what they've achieved, I just hope we don't fall into thinking our philanthropic obligation to society ends at the cash register with two packs of strawberry Tim Tams. And in particular (actually the catalyst for this little rant), I hope we don't see any more instances of emotional manipulation as blatant and clumsy as this:
What a shocker. Wouldn't "Buy Dove Pink to help find a cure for breast cancer" have worked just as well? Hey, no one wants to be the jerk who says they don't want a cure for breast cancer, so maybe it seemed like a good idea in the brainstorming session, but you've got to wonder what they were thinking?
Which reminds me: when Radiohead made In Rainbows available for download they inexplicably neglected to include cover art. A quick email asking where it could be found received a laconic "Cover art is not available" in reply. I did in the end find an image which, to my horror, was riddled with Helvetica. So much for being progressive and experimental! But thankfully the cover must have been fan-generated or somesuch, because it's significantly different to the cover art now available from iTunes and Amazon.
The splotchy thing's been flipped and rotated, a wavy blue Punch-Drunk Love-ish and Sea Change-ish slippy thing's been introduced, the type's been tightened up and, best of all, no Helvetica. They've gone instead with the UK's road signage face Transport Medium, and I think the result is considerably more pleasing. Although I would like to baseline shift those slashes.
Um, what else? Oh, that's enough for now.
UPDATE: While googlin' around for Jeremy Blake links (he of the Punch-Drunk Love/Beck work), I discovered he's dead! Swam out to sea and drowned himself last year a week after his girlfriend killed herself. Tragic. Wikipedia says they "believed that they were being followed and harassed by Scientologists up to the point of their deaths." Bizarre.
Well... in the meantime, please do enjoy his stunning clip for Beck's Round the Bend.
After dropping Kate at work on Friday morning, Winter and I spent an hour or so wandering around the beautiful Fitzroy Gardens.
We held hands and pottered through the trees and along the many pathways. We felt the warmth of the sun, and the cool of the shade. We chased birds and kicked pine cones. We stroked long, leathery leaves and shook tall bamboo canes. We stepped slowly, carefully, down brick steps to a foun... oop, no, we're climbing back up the steps. And down again. Oh and up again. Aaand down again. What about this fountain, Winter? Up again. Down again.
Several lifetimes later we left the steps and dragged our feet through the gravel paths of the flower-filled Conservatory, laughing at the crunchy noise. We watched a bus load of American tourists taking turns taking each other's photo on a small footbridge amid a backdrop of luscious colour. We ran from two gleaming vintage cars as they spluttered past, sounding like they were about to explode. We watched a plane fly overhead through the perfectly blue sky, and waved goodbye when it disappeared over the treeline.
And finally, when Winter's legs began to wobble, I carried her back to the car, waving goodbye to Mum up in her window across the road, and heading for home where Winter fell into an instant slumber, and I padded off to fill the kettle.
As far as excuses for neglecting your blog go, surely up there with the most excusable has got to be one like this:
Yep; because one child just hasn't been keeping us busy enough. And this one's not even out and already it's forcing my face into the grindstone, as Kate has been struck down with another debilitating bout of so-called morning sickness. It bustled in and made itself at home for the full nine months last time, and though people keep trying to reassure us that "Every pregnancy is different", so far this one's only been different by being worse. Although, that said, over the last week or so we have seen some small improvement, so we're hopeful the conventional wisdom will prove itself yet.
While we're waiting for that to happen, the pressing Issue of the Day is what to call this little swirl in the ultrasonic fog? Where Winter was given the prenatal designation, 'Alpha', this little blip has come to be known as, ahem, Number 2. It wasn't planned that way, and all around sniggered the first time 'Number 2' just slipped out (snigger), but as the days went on by, Number 2 just seemed to stick (snigger, snigger). And I must say, even though the name might skirt dangerous territory, it does allow me to repeatedly ask Number 2 who he (or she) works for... and overall I think that counts as a gain. Wouldn't you?
Well, I think we can call it. We've moved past nothing but meaningless babble, and I think we can officially sign off on Winter's first real word.
For a while there we thought it was going to be 'da,' meaning 'dad,' because she'd quite clearly say it when pointing at me. But when we noticed she'd also say it when pointing to CK, we pretty quickly changed our minds.
And so, Winter's first word is [drumroll] (no, not 'drumroll', but how cool would that be? Not as good as dodecahedron, but still pretty good)... [um, another drumroll] it's... 'Ma.'
But before you ladies all start high-fiving each other like it's some kind of competition (alright, it is a competition), 'ma' does not mean 'mum,' but 'Thelma,' as in Thelma the cat.
Thelma is Winter's favourite friend, and few things will get her as excited as Thelma padding into the room. Winter only needs to hear her bell tinkling in the distance and she'll look around and say, "Ma?" And Thelma seems to like Winter too, because despite Winter's rather uncoordinated patting (which is more like a game of Whack-a-Mole), Thelma will always come up and lie down next to her, patiently enduring her attention.
And Winter's favourite stuffed toy, an orange cat called Comma, has also come to be called 'Ma,' although we've realised 'ma' is just Winter's word for 'cat.' Still, the '-ma' connection to her two favourite cats is a nice coincidence all the same.
Christmas came early to the Annual Christmas Stolp this year. With the stolpers now spread far and wide across the suburbs of Melbourne, it was suggested that stolping the Sunday before Christmas would be more convenient, and make for a less rushed and more enjoyable stolp all round. A Sunday roast and a Sunday stolp are two things you should never rush, and a relaxed pace allows for time to stop and smell the Slurpees; before hurling them across a netball court in fierce competition, of course.
Eleven stolpers turned out to stretch their legs this year, including three debutantes: Bomber, Alethea and Winter. Though Winter had been along for the ride last year, in 2006 she was something new under the sun, and the histories will show she entered her first 7-Eleven at eight months, 15 days and four hours of age! Though treated to a Slurpee sampler via the umbilical cord in 2005, this year she got to try the real, unadulterated thing. And do children love pure sugar? Well, the results are back from the lab. Let's take a look, shall we?
Not yes or no, but for sure! A moment’s uncertainty was quickly overcome, and the mouth sprung open for more. Not too much more; we are somewhat responsible parents, after all.
My first Fathers' Day today. As the subject, I mean; not just the giver of gifts and maker of cards. Speaking of which, Winter somehow managed to get online and find her way to Amazon where she purchased Season 1 of 'Dr Katz: Professional Therapist' on DVD for me! Incredible child. They grow up so fast.
Alright! Just completed the latest Census form, and I did it online! Woooo! The Future is Now! It’s swerved on up the Information Superhighway’s off-ramp and it’s here in your living room RIGHT NOW so get on-board or get run over!! ‘Information Superhighway’. Remember that? There’s a phrase I’m glad has fallen into disuse. Can’t remember the last time I heard someone use it. In a non-sarcastic way, at least.
So yeah, Census 2006. Pretty exciting. It’s history in the making. Millions of people cooperating to capture a moment in time for future generations to look back upon and discover that yes, I did have internet access in my home in August 2006. The other appeal for me is that it’s a form to fill out. I love filling out forms. There’s something very satisfying about it. I’m not quite sure what it is.
So did everyone tick the release this information in 99 years box? Or did you feel Big Brother breathing a little too hard down your neck? Did you mark down your religion as ‘Jedi Knight’? If yes, are you a stroker? Wait, don’t answer: I already know. :-)
The best part of this Census was filling in Winter’s details. She’s really a real person now! Are those last two sentences enough of an excuse to post another photo of her? Of course it is.
Quick update, if you’re interested: Happiest baby alive. Sleeping well, feeding well and growing faster than the number of Jedi in Australia. Much faster. She’s trying to talk and coming out with all sorts of weird squawks. Sometimes I’m on the phone to Kate and it sounds like there’s a frantic bird trapped inside attacking her. Winter’s also trying to laugh. It never occurred to me that we need to learn how to laugh! She takes these large gulps of air and makes a funny noise, but mostly ends up with a fit of hiccups. Maybe we’ll have to get David Brent to give her a few pointers? Come on, trust me. Ay? Yeah? Hoohoohoo.
UPDATE: ARGH! The Jedi hilarity has mutated into a tool for social activism! Last night I was fenced into a corner of the tram by two very serious and very earnest young women who were talking with pride about listing their religion on the Census as 'Greenie'. "It felt so good doing that because, like, if enough people do it, the Government will have to pay attention." Yeah, good luck with that. Let me know how it works out.
Well, at three months, Winter continues to fly past her developmental milestones. She’s smiling, she’s jamming her hands into her mouth (which is apparently how we learn that those things that keep moving around in front of us actually belong to us), she’s hitting things that dangle in front of her (in an inquisitive, not violent, manner), and she’s even started rolling! My only area of concern is that while she favours her left hand for hitting, she’s favouring the right hand for sucking, and so it’s unclear which hand is dominant and whether she’ll be left or right handed. Lefties do make an impact, and right-handers do suck, so it could still go either way… No, it’s not a competition, but… LEFT, LEFT, LEFT, COME ON! :-)
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