We went to the Somers Art Fair…
Tag: Sunday (Page 2 of 2)
Small Z began today by suggesting that she was not going to remove her pyjamas. She was instead going to layer her fairy dress on top of them. I have learned not to fight this stuff – does it matter if she runs around in this ensemble all day? It does not. We put her tent on the porch…
Later in the day (after visiting Bunnings and having Small Z stage a force three meltdown in the carpark) our lovely visitors arrived for afternoon tea. Small Z and I had baked a carrot cake. Mrs H and Jack crafted some scones from lemonade, cream and flour… we paired these butter and a pot of strong tea.
Jack – who is to turn TEN on Tuesday, drew this lovely portrait of our family. He is so spot on!
There is ‘Distressed Beth’, ‘Normal Daisy’, ‘Confounded Zoe’ and…of course ‘Mark!’
(The reason I am so distressed is that he so perfectly captured my eyebags…)
My mind is so often on TATINATM that I’m finding it difficult to write about the everyday activities that go on in the background. But that is what this space is for and it depresses me when there is a gap – I put myself into the future and realise that I never wrote about that day I took the Smalls to the Mornington rose garden, or whatever. My mind is always ticking over with what I’d like to write, but getting it down eludes me. Which is why I often post in retrospect and backdate things…
In the past week Small DB has been the crankiest most contrary little creature imaginable. There are huge chunks of calm, that are shattered by:
a) me trying to help her get dressed
b) her socks feeling wrong
c) me singing
d) Small Z teasing her
e) me refusing to let her watch another show on iView after she’s already watched one
f) her shoes feeling wrong
Any of the above provokes screaming rages with hitting, stamping, throwing… I do remember Small Z having a few patches like this in her two-year-old year (most memorably in Daylesford on my birthday). It’s hard work, and impossible to work around them all. We need to get out of the house, I don’t want her sitting dead-eyed in front of a screen all day…
Sunday morning. The thought of remaining in the house was poisonous. I bribed Small DB into the car with food. She wore socks. No shoes (they were in the back-up bag that I brought along). We drove to a car boot sale at the Oak Hill Gallery, which was overpriced and sadly devoid of junk, but we walked through the gallery a few times, commenting on our favourite pictures.
We went for a wander around the back of the building and the Smalls ran like loons through the rose garden, smelling all the different kinds of flowers. Small DB asked me what each kind was called. Some smelt g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s – others had no scent at all.
They had needed a run and some air.
We walked back to the car boot sale, avoided the sausage sizzle, and had a picnic sitting in the car. Rolls, oranges, muffins and chai… Then Small DB sent Small Z and I to the back seat and drove us to “Amerwica”. “Who will we visit over there, Small DB?” “Oh…”, she shifted the steering wheel thoughtfully, “Just Bean, Hallie…and MWB.”
She was finally convinced to vacate the drivers seat and we drove around the corner to the ‘duck park’, where the Smalls were given a bit of bread to feed the ducks by an eight-year-old called Lilibeth whom I later overheard instructing Small Z about the usage of the word ‘hyperbole’.
Small Z adores ducks. Always has. She follows them about. Small DB followed them too, chatting to them gently – and then returning to me looking frustrated. “Why don’t they talk back to me? Why? They won’t say nothing to me.” Both of them wore their new gumboots – bought on the first day of winter. Small Z christened hers by falling out of a tree and into the duckpond.
Onwards – to the tip shop. I am desperately seeking some low shelving for the Small’s corner of the lounge room. Baskets of toys, paper, Lego…we require a storage solution! Unfortunately the tip shop had none – but we did get a pile of books (did I mention we need more shelves?).