Tuft Love

If I came home with a head like Tracey’s just given me I’d be unhappily married until my scalp was hidden again.

“You remind me of someone,” Tracey murmured.

I thought so too.

“A bad ass biker? Don King?” I suggested, looking at the photos of what she was doing to my head.

I’d come up with the brilliant idea of buying a cheap set of shears and asking Tracey to rid me of my sideburns and the multi-coloured tufts of hair misbehaving around my ears. It’s not that we can’t afford for me to get a proper haircut but regardless of the reason we go there I have noticed we don’t seem to be able to withdraw from a shopping centre for under three figures.

Plus – and I cannot emphasise the importance of this next point enough – I decided it would be fun to have Tracey press her boobies into my back and shoulders like all the best hairdressers do.

“No,” said Tracey, frowning at my head, “someone more cartoony.”

“I said Don King.”

“I don’t even know who that is.”

I took another long look at the photos on my phone.

“I look like one of those dolls kids used to have,” I said. Tracey’s expression was still frowning so I knew I’d need to go deeper and try remember what they were called. “One of those troll things. You know with the hair sticking strai-”

“Bert!”

“-ght up. Sorry?”

“You look like Bert!”

“Who?”

“Bert. The Muppet.”

My jaw dropped. Of all the comparisons to make!

“You know you’re the second person to say that,” I told her. I was at that moment reading comments on a photo of my evolving new do I’d uploaded. “A lady left a comment just now on Instagram.”

“And she said Bert as well?” asked Tracey, pausing from pulling out stray hairs by the roots with one of the kids’ glue & sticky tape encrusted scissors to look over my shoulder. Shortly after this I decided my pain threshold didn’t allow for the trimming of the top of my head and left Salon De Forestation. “Wow. What are the chances we’d both think of him?”

“I won’t say I’m thrilled with the comparison,” I admitted, “but at least you both picked the skinny one.”

Tracey laughed.

“He’s not the skinny one.”

So I remind her of Ernie.

You know what? He’s the fun one. I can live with that.

I just hope she can.

Our of our latest adventures and home videos

Our First Wombat

Driving into the little Cradle Mountain ‘village’ and noticed this beautiful guy eating by the side of the road. This is a huge moment for the family, as wombats are Master12’s favourite animal and we’ve been keen to see one which isn’t in an enclosure. Walter, as he’s known to locals, isn’t exactly wild, but he’s not in a zoo either so we think that counts. A fantastic moment for our family.

Tasmazia Little Crackpot

This place came recommended to us but we weren’t going to make the drive out to see it until we watched a video on their website with an interview of the guy who built it. He’s a cracker, and we were thrilled to be able to meet him. Plus, it turned out all the recommendations were right: with five mazes and dad jokes everywhere, this place was a lot of fun.

Pottheads hiding in the bushes.

The man himself.

Driving…Me Mad

We were out for about six hours and it was a fantastic drive….until this.

Raising a family on little more than laughs

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Apparently this is how to have ensure you get the option on Facebook to click over and read our adventures. These instructions come curtesy of friend of BFli, Lynnette. 

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