28 December 2012

Camping together in a tiny tent

On my recent post about the Lalaloopsy Dolls, Tracy P posted this darling comment:

You had me at "camp together in a tiny tent"!

And from that moment on, I started warming to the idea of Jessie having some Lalaloopsy Dolls. Behold: camping together in a tiny tent!

What a wonderfully blessed Christmas!  My friend Catriona posted this on her blog, and I loved the delectable juxtaposition of adjectives:

I am thankful that God chose to enter our world in such a tiny fantastic big humble way.

My Mum, Dad and Crazy Sister her family came over for Christmas lunch. We missed Wee Bro who was staying in Mt Isa (a long way away) these holidays.  We roasted some lamb and fabulous potatoes and pumpkin on the barbecue and enjoyed Crazy Sister's pavlovas with Mum's fruit for dessert.

In terms of presents, we did the same thing we've done in previous years: just got a few little things for each person.  And then just a few more little things for each person.  And then some last-minute little things for each person.  And ended up with - let's face it - too many little things for each person. My own favourite was the terabyte of space I requested - that along with my 100GB Dropbox means that our family photos seem to be adequately backed-up for the moment.

I loved giving some bookshelves and bar-stools to Mr de Elba - I knew he wanted them and I kept them a secret until Christmas day!  Buzz loved the giant posters on the Moon and Space Exploration, Jessie showed an outrageous amount of euphoria to receive a hair curling iron and Woody played with his new wooden train track for hours.  Baby Rex received the wooden letters for his bedroom door with an appropriate amount of dribble and Bullseye got nothing and was none the wiser.

The nappy box was a bin, not a gift.
Summer holidays seem to stretch interminably before us, but they will be gone in a flash. And I'll have a big boy in Year 3, a big girl in Year 1, another big boy in 3-yr-old Kindy (pre-pre-prep) and another big boy who will be nearly crawling, walking, eating meat, bringing home girlfriends and getting his driver's licence*.

- - - - - - - - - -

*I'll spell licence [noun] the Australian way for Dad, who picked up the American spelling in my recent post about Taylah's mum's licence problems.

23 December 2012

Keeping me laughing in 2012

Woody saunters down the hall to the toilet, all the way singing, "I got da moves like Zagger, I got da moooooves... like Zagger ..."

Me looking in the fridge: I feel like eating a carrot.  Oh.  Only one left.  Better save it.  Bother.  Bother-bother-poo!
Woody, appearing beside me: Where's the bottle of poo?  Did you say 'bottle of poo?'

Woody: What are those kangaroos eating?
Grandma: They're eating grass.
Woody: We're walking on their food?

Settling into Daddy's work car, opening a Refidex on his lap: "Sapta Fourteen!"

Woody shuts the sliding door of Daddy's office and giggles, and I know Daddy is inside.
Me: What's going on Woody?
Woody: He's wocked in he's 'tudy. (Giggle giggle.)

Jessie: Who was that really short taxi-driver?
Me:  ???
Jessie: The taxi-driver.  The really short one?  REEEAALLY short.
Me: ... Short?  Like Zacchaeus?
Jessie: Yeah.  Zacchaeus.  The taxi-driver.
Me: Zacchaeus?!?  Taxi-driver?
Me & Jessie: Ohhh.

Jessie, "reading" a Baby Bible to Baby Rex: Jesus was thrown into a den...
Me, correcting her: ...asleep in a boat...
Jessie: ... and he was surrounded by all these slaves...
Me: ...disciples...

Buzz:  Mum! Jessie called me a Stupid Poo-Poo-Face!!
Jessie, deeply offended:  I did NOT, you Stupid Bum-Bum-Face!!

Mr de Elba, mistakenly: C'mon!  Get your shoes on, mate!
Jessie: "You can't call me 'mate'!!  I'm a girl!!  You have to call me 'woman'!"

Dad, to Jessie:  C'mon!  Eat your salad, woman!
Jessie, later:  Daddy have I eaten enough 'saladwoman' now?

Jessie: Double, triple, ...  what comes after triple?
Me: Quadruple, quintuple, ...
Jessie: ... Six-qupple?

Me: Woody, you are wasting your screams. You will run out of screams one day. Then one day when you're being chased by a wolf, you won't be able to scream 'Argh! A wolf is chasing me!'
-All fall about laughing-
Jessie: Okay Mum, can you buy me a wolf costume?

Me: How did Greeny's pupa go at Show and Tell yesterday?
Jessie: Really good! They all said "Eww!" 

Jessie: Mum! Buzz said I'm stupid!
Me: Ah. Well. See, that's not true so I wouldn't worry about it. You know LOTS of stuff.
Jessie: Yes. Like I know that 'selfish' means you only think of yourself. And 'liar' means you're not telling the truth.
Me: Uh. Yeah. Good examples.

Me: I hope our delivery came today!  Do you think our delivery came today?
Buzz:  I dunno.  Don't ask me, I'm not The Master Of Deliveries. 

Me: You drank all that tea without sugar!
Buzz:  Yeah, but I drank it hatefully.

On bees:  The Queen Bee marries the King Bee.  The Queen then lays lots of eggs and the King dies straightaway.  From horror, I think.  The horror of being married.
(I later asked him what he thought of marriage: was it fun or horror?  He immediately said, "Fun."  Relief.  I referred back to this comment about bees, and he admitted, "I'm not sure anymore.  It mightn't be bees.  It might be ants.  Or wasps."  I checked: it is bees, and marriage isn't horror.)

Buzz, enraged: OKAY Woody, HOW many videos have you been TAKING on MY iPod? HUH?
(Presses 'play,' revealing the sound of a child screeching like a deranged chimpanzee. Ridiculous display of insanely gratuitous noise ensues.)
Buzz, looking sheepish: Oh. Okay, that was one of mine ...
And this little guy of course!
And this, by Mr de Elba: 

Mr de E: Can you still buy candles at Carols by Candlelight?
Me: I think it's the plastic LED candles these days isn't it?
Mr deE:  Stuff that.  What's the point of Carols by Candlelight when you can't drop hot wax on yourself?  Man our childhood was awesome!

07 December 2012

Show and (really!) Tell

Jessie:  Taylah's* mum lost her license but she's still driving.
 .....- shocked silence -.....
Me: How on earth do you know that?
Jessie, nonchalantly:  Taylah did it for Show & Tell.  

* Name changed to protect the ... guilty, apparently.

It could be unwise to give five- and six-year-olds too much of a soapbox.

Jessie came home one day with some great ideas for her Christmas List.  She'd seen Buzz' list which included all sorts of spy gadgets, Harry Potter magic sets and, interestingly, and owl.  But she wasn't inspired to compile her own Christmas list until she realised that Show & Tell - JOLLY Show & Tell - was a great opportunity to see what the Haves had, and what she did not.

This poor little Have-Not decided that she would ask for a Lalaloopsy doll.

A What?

A Lalaloopsy Doll!  

Lah - lah - loop - see.



I thought, "Okay, I guess I can at least research it," and Mister Google supplied me with some really frightening images:

Do those dark black eyes stare into your soul the way they seem to stare into mine?  I half expect to pull and string and hear, "I see dead people."  Anyway, my Google search got crazy with images like this:
...which, um, No.  But I saw how she really wanted a Lalaloopsy doll and did some more research.  I've decided on two little mini ones who can camp together in a tiny tent, because their eyes seem to appear slightly less-evil by virtue of being smaller.  I hope that suits her.

But what about you?  Has Show & Tell ever proved to be the best viral marketing for you or a child you know?  Or worse, do you have a story about something being disclosed during Show and Tell?  Spill.