Monday, November 21, 2011

Dear Santa (A mums wish list)

Dear Santa,

I believe I have been a very good girl this year.

I have tried to be a good, kind and patient mum (with the kids, I never promised anything about being patient with grown -ups).

I have not embarrassed myself in public very much this year (I think you should turn a blind eye at wine-o-clock at BBQ's and get togethers).

And I generally have been polite to my fellow human beings (with just some scowling and pouting, as opposed to tourettes laden tirades, when waiting in the supermarket queue behind someone who parks their trolley in the checkout and then leaves it to go do all of their shopping!)

So Santa, since I have been good, I have my own little wish list I have compiled for you.

Can you please, please, please NOT bring my children any of the following:

A) Toys that need 852 batteries to run them, then run out once they've been operating for 36 seconds (unless you bring me shares in Duracell as well).

B) Lollies. A few are okay, and I know they make good stocking fillers, but you don't actually need to fill the whole stocking with them. I think last year Jasper was creating his own mini vortex in the backyard, when he rode his bike around, and around, and around in increasingly faster, lolly-and-sugar-induced circles, and nearly got sucked into another dimension. So, maybe just a handful this year.

C) Cheap $2 Shop toys that break when you touch them lightly with your pinky finger, or breathe heavily on them.

D) Toys with sounds that exceed 85 decibels. I don't think toy companies realise that any noises over 85 decibels actually cause noise-induced hearing loss, so toys get louder and louder as the years progress and my kids (and my) hearing deteriorates. Besides, they compete with the stereo, so I end up with some kind of extended remix version of Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven ... in two police cars and a firetruck".

Yours Sincerely,


P.S. What was that Santa? I can only assume you have said "Yes" to all of the above and are complying with my list, as I can't hear you, I have noise induced hearing loss from last year's presents!

Do you have a parents wish list for Santa this year?

Thursday, November 17, 2011

The thing that came home in the lunchbox

I happily packed off my preppy, Jasper, at the start of the week with his readers, his hat and his lunchbox.

Monday night his reader, hat, but not his lunch box, made it home.
Worrying about the poor psyche of his lunchbox (all alone at night in the big dark school) I asked Jasper, "Can you please bring your lunchbox home tomorrow?"

Tuesday afternoon came, and Jasper had bought home his lunchbox! But not his sandwich container.

"Did you actually eat your sandwich?" I asked him.

"Yeeeeeeeeessssss" he replied, his eyes looking around the room like a nervous squirrel.

"OK matey. You'd better bring it home tomorrow then!" I was nervously wondering about what wonderous new life sprouts from the crusts of a light rye, cheese and relish sandwich? And whether that life would be intelligent enough I could train it to remind Jasper to bring home his lunchbox!!

Wednesday evening remained sandwich containerless still.
Thursday I started to wonder if the teachers could smell anything coming from Jasper's pigeon-hole. Did they walk past and wonder "Hmmm? What child brings a parmesan and dead badger sandwich to school for lunch?"

Friday afternoon I picked up Jasper from the school gate and asked him then-and-there, "Did you remember your sandwich container?"

Jasper smiled his huge I'm-so-awesome-give-me-a-prize smile and blurted "YEP!"

As we drove home I was anxiously thinking about what I was going to confront as I opened his bag. Glow in the dark toxic sludge that formed the shapes of the planets of our solar system? Colonies of mould singing a rousing rendition of "The Wild Colonial Boy"? Strange, tiny, light sensitive creatures that peer up at me as I open the sandwich container, blinking, they ask, "Got any more sandwiches?"

I popped on a pair of latex gloves and opened his bag with utmost care, grabbed the offending sandwich container and had a look at it ...

It was empty! Jasper HAD eaten his sandwich! All that remained was the smell of old bread and a few cry crumbs.

As I sighed with relief I felt a slight pang of remorse that I didn't get a chance to train a new creature to sit on Jasper's shoulder and whisper to him when the home time bell rings, "Don't forget your lunch box!"

Do your kids forget to bring things home from school? Do they eat all of their lunch, or do you find special gifts of squashed sandwiches waiting for you at the end of the day?