We're packing all our stuff to move back to the old one-bedroom flat next door, and let's call the reason for that an administrational cock-up, oops: error, and not waste precious web space going into details. Unfortunatley Tara's mum has an odd sense of humour and feels the need to pack kith and kin along with kit, so Tara gets to live in a box for a bit, and living in a drawer seems to please her just as much. Of course! There are two men on her left and right, just outside the picture, keeping her upright and entertained, just as she likes it. (Her favourite man just kneeling to her left.)
As bad luck has it, her sitting skills have not progressed much since her ding-a-dong days, so boxes and drawers are not really as suitable as babysitter daddy, who keeps polishing his one handed dish washing skills placidly when he absolutely has to. A shame those skills cannot be transferred to the scrubbing of bath rooms and the defrosting of freezers. Wah wah, says Tara, I prefer living on arms to living on bouncy chairs, wah!But can you see the smile she's giving me? I didn't even have to work for it, this time. I only said hallo hallo hallllllo! She must remember me as the woman who only yesterday made her laugh so hard by bouncing up and down in front of her shouting Boo! Boo! Boo! for about 20 minutes. If I don't make it to the gym, I figured, and kept power-sqatting and shouting. (I'm lying. I just thought: If you keep laughing like this, my wonderful amazing daughter, then I'll just bounce forever, or at least until I can't feel my legs any more!)
The only box I know to come with inbuilt entertainment is a TV. And we don't have one. Oh, baby...
P.S.: So yes, we're busy moving. No more blogs, calls, or emails until we're reconnected, whenever that will be.
No comments:
Post a Comment