Saturday, 2 August 2008

Read Without Mother

You may remember last month that The Girl was giving me a bit of trouble on public transport (see Read With Mother). An update, of sorts, on her reading skills . . . 

But first, a newsflash: our stuff has arrived. Yes, all 31 boxes and 2 non-box-but-bubble-wrapped-to-within-an-inch-of-their-lives-es. This was supposed to be a euphoric moment. I'd kept saying to the "Have You Settled In Yet?" Brigade that once our stuff was here the house would feel more like a home. We'd no longer feel like we were on holiday, cooking with one saucepan and staring at empty shelves. Turns out that was exactly the problem earlier this week when I started unpacking - this is really, really it (I know I've said this before but now this is really really really really really it). It's as if I felt secure in the knowledge that only we were here, not all our things, which meant we were still a bit there. But as I unwrapped photo frames and mugs with the children's faces on and the blender that still has a tiny solid bit of soup stuck on it and the old wooden wall thermometre that belonged to my grandmother, I saw my old life wash into my new life and that made me bawl. When the thermometre found itself a perfect place on the wall (which seems to have some of the most bizarrely positioned picture hooks I've ever seen), I bawled more (but quietly, you understand, so the children wouldn't see).

The following day I'd gotten over myself, and started to see more of the benefits of having stuff on the shelves (less acutely visible dust) and toys filling every inch of floor space (impossible to hoover, oh well). And today we've had a truly almighty unpacking session, while the children ran around in their pyjamas helping themselves to popcorn and satsumas and trying to play with every single toy they could lay their hands on for approximately 17 seconds before moving onto the next.

The Girl suddenly went quiet. 

"Is she with you?" I yelled to The Australian.

"No. Is she with you?" he yelled back.

"Let's think about that for a second . . . "

We were both knee-deep in bubblewrap so we shouted for her.

"Yes?" she yelled back.

"Where are you?"


"Where's here?"


"Give us a clue."

"OK. C-O-O-N-A-W-A-R-R-A. Coonawarra! That says Coonawarra!"


"And this one says: K-O-O-N-U-N-G-A H-I-L-L. Koonunga Hill!"

Oh, we realised, she's at the wine cabinet.


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Nik's Blog said...

The girl's a star!


Geraldine said...

Good for The Girl!

(aka Jem - I've now got myself one of them there Google thingies)

Mum'sTheWord said...

Cheers for popping in, Nik and Geraldine. I hasten to add that none of the wine bottles were case Social Services happen to be reading my blog.

Sasch said...

What can I say? She's her mother's daughter but with her fathers taste in wine!