Smashed Potatoes
byWorkload vs praise – there is no better recipe.
Workload vs praise – there is no better recipe.
See those crumbs in the bottom right of this photo – they should have given me a hint something was up. Or, in this case, down.
As we approached the falls the sound of crashing water was incredibly loud. We’d only left there ten minutes before and I couldn’t remember it being so deafening.
“Come on, troops,” said Dad, throwing the last of the lunch scraps into the bin. “It’s time for a bush walk.”
I’ve this thing lately for fancy footwear.
I have a confession. My kids annoy the hell out of me.
Since Movember, Miss5 hasn’t been keen to come near my face.She’s been extremely unforgiving of my stubble and, although it started as a bit of a lark, she’s not been smothering me in kisses. But I had hopes that maybe today…
If Tracey sought to teach me a lesson by making me sleep in with Miss2 last night, while she slept in our bed with Miss5, then mission accomplished.
As plans go, this was one of Dad’s best.
Despite what you might think about sleeping on a bed of treated toilet water I’ll say this, you do get a good night’s sleep.
Everyone pulled their tin cups from their backpacks and put away their torches.
I’m pretty sure it started as a joke but Miss5 seems to have forgotten that somewhere along the line, and now she just knows I’m not Mummy.
With a powerful beam of light, the ranger zeroed in on a possum about ten metres up a tree. The poor little critter looked stunned by all the sudden, blinding attention.
There’s something about fish covered in greasy breadcrumbs which warms the soul and brightens your outlook.
We set up camp at our new, far less green, campsite. On dirt, in fact.