Tag Archives: Boys

Lemon Tart At Christmas

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Horatio Collage

Horatio was always a ratbag.
From the day that I met him when he was just 9 days old, he showed himself to be strong willed and independent. Although he was the runt of a litter of six pups, he was the first one to open his eyes and the first one to wander away from his Mum.

Quite a few times in our lives together, he pissed me off.
I once caught him urinating against some brand new curtains that I had just finished hanging, and he seriously just looked at me as he finished. He looked me right in the eye as he just kept pissing.

Bloody little shit!

And I could never leave any food within his reach. He once pulled a just opened camembert off my coffee table and ate the whole thing.

Bloody little shit!

Last Christmas was very difficult. Just tough. I had few pleasures to enjoy.
But Christmas time does present itself with lots of treats and has so many edible joys. Food that we only have at Christmas and therefore savour. Like lemon tarts from Bakers Delight.

So last Christmas I splurged on a box of six of these delicious little morsels. However, when I got home I was busting to go to the toilet, so I dumped all my shopping bags – including the one with the box of lemon tarts – on the floor by the back door, and dashed to the dunny.

When I came out I forgot about the groceries and went to another task, something not important but it was enough to distract me from the food by the back door.

And you can totally guess what happened can’t you? Horatio dragged the whole box of tarts out to the back lawn and destroyed two of them before I discovered him. In fact he was onto his third!

Bloody little shit!

So today, when I bought my first lemon tart for the 2014 Christmas season, I thought of my little monster. Gone from me just over six months ago.

Today is also exactly six months since I made the decision to kill my beloved Jack. Exactly six months ago. Today.
And I still miss him so utterly.

But today is about lemon tarts.
Lemon tarts and Horatio.
My own bloody little shit!

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Building A Tipi

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Every Thursday afternoon, for a couple of hours
I look after two boys
to give their Mum a bit of respite.

One boy is 6, and the other is 8.
They are both real boys!
They yell, and punch and get seriously physical.

Each time I see them I try to think of something
physical,
and something
mental
to do do with them.

We’ve done
* painting
* a “Me” album
* card games
* melted crayons
* glass etching
* bush walking
* woodwork
and a few other bibs ‘n bobs.

But yesterday we went to the creek at the back of their property
I know! How lucky are they?!?
and did some work on their cubby house.

It’s awesome!

Bit by bit they have been building it,
with both their Mum & Dad.

It basically a lean-to
made from large and small branches,
propped up against a tree.

It looks like a tipi.

It looked a little something like this. A little ;)

It looked a little something like this.
A little 😉

I knew it was there,
and had planned to go there with the boys.

I brought ribbons and wool and scissors
and we decorated it.

I told the boys that Native American Indians
would decorate their own tipis with feathers and beads, etc
to bring good spirits and fortune to their lives. ***

We also added some more
a lot more, actually
branches to the structure.

Except for the marauding mosquitoes,
we had so much fun.

It was so awesome!

I forgot what it felt like to just ‘muck around’.

Seriously, when was the last time you just played like a kid?

Made
mud pies with leaves & twigs & stuff,
or
built a fort out of bed sheets and dining chairs,
or
create a sandcastle in the sand pit?

When is the last time
you acted like a kid?

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*** I do not claim to be any kind of expert on American Indian culture,
but instead used this opportunity to talk to the boys
about another culture in another time.

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History/Background on decorated tipis

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