Good Knight
byThree hours. That’s how long it was from walking past the pet section in Kmart until we were leaving our local RSPCA with a new family member
BIG blog
The blog, the whole blog and nothing but the blog.
Dark Days
byIt could have been worse. I still can’t believe it wasn’t.
The Booby Prize
by“Why can’t I be a trophy husband?” I asked the kids as the family sat around playing boardgames over Christmas.
I Get Rolled
byIt took a second or two to realise what was going on. Suddenly the room was filled with a loud industrial sort of humming…
Don’t Look Now But…
by“Bruce,” exclaimed Tracey, glaring daggers at the base of my neck, “don’t move!”
Gluten Free For Christmas
by#ad My love of Christmas is only slightly dampened by the difficulty of working around five GLUTEN intolerant children.
Two Stories
byI’ve been waiting nearly two weeks to share this story. Actually, two stories.
Minus One
byThere’s a question you get a lot when people like Tracey & I meet other parents and start up a chat.
Sun-of-a…
byPassive aggressive? Me? Oh, hell yeah.
Like To Get To Know You Well
byOne of the fun things about your kids getting to the age where they’re dating and seriously contemplating settling down is meeting the other family.
Bin Here Before
byI’ve been parenting for 27 years now and, as my youngest is only seven, I figure I’ve still got at least 10 to go.
No wonder I’m on drugs.
On Making The Birthday Suit
byJust when you think you have it sorted they go and change the band, show or toys they like and leave you holding the Teletubbies backpack like an idiot.
Book’em
byIn the proper ‘not quite parenting’ style I embrace I was informed over toast there was Year 7 Readers Cup at Sippy Downs that…
I have a confession
byI have a confession to make: I thought the reason I had less dumb stuff to write about was because I was getting better…
The Luckiest Devereaux
byWhen I was about eighteen dad ruined a perfectly good meal by announcing I’d be expected to do his eulogy. “You’re the oldest,” he’d argued when I protested strongly, instantly breaking into the sort of full body dampness lovers of not public speaking will recognise. As such I’ve been dreading the passing of my father more than most for 34 years.