A Day of Play

Today was Tracey’s last day of working for Blockbuster. As sad as she is to be leaving the team, she’s very excited about setting herself up as a photographer. – something she’s been wanting to do for several years, but couldn’t because pregnancy and babies kept running off with her brain.

“I’ve done the right thing, haven’t I?” she asked when she came home, a little teary and emotional. Naturally I assured her she has. She’s a great photographer, loves looking at the world through a lens and, if you’ve got the opportunity, why not do something you love.

I also suspect she’s anxious to spend more time at home with the kids on weekends – you know, the time when I’m mostly home with them too.

“I’m a doggy!” Miss5 told me this morning as she scuttled past me on all fours with her tongue out.

“Me dooo!” yelled Miss2, following her big sister in a cloud of chuckles. Miss2 does an even more realistic puppy than her big sister because she isn’t fully toilet trained yet so she leaves the occasional puddle around the place.

How much fun is it to watch them pretend play? I like to encourage them.

“Good dogs,” I said, bending down to pat them both fondly on the head. “Come on. Come on girls,” I said cheerfully, slapping my thighs, and they followed me into the kitchen where I set down a bowl of water for each of them.

This afternoon I could hear the kids in their bedrooms practicing their ‘show’. I knew it was a show because I was handed tickets at various stages throughout the day. One ticket isn’t enough: each kid likes to produce their own.

So earlier tonight, with Tracey home from work, we gathered in our best pajamas in one of the bedrooms and Miss8 kicked things off with Mary Had A Little Lamb on the violin. We all sang along the second time through, some of us with our own version of the lyrics which earned me some raised eyebrows and her a huge round of applause.

Then Miss5 danced and sang a song of her own making – a little ditty about Christmas Eve and all the stuff she seemed likely to find waiting for her under the tree – which ended with a heart-stopping spin and jump off the bed, and again we clapped and cheered.

Miss2 danced as only two years olds or rhythmless headbangers can, and earned herself a standing ovation.

Then came Master7. Master7 learned today derriere is another word for bum. How he learned this, I don’t know. Perhaps it was that one time I mentioned it today while I was threatening to pat his bum if he didn’t behave, after which the two of us, joined by Miss8, chased each other around the house playing a sort of bum-slap tag game. Who knows? That might have been it. So tonight, Master7 did a bum dance for us while reciting all the words he knows which mean bum: derriere being the latest addition and, going by the number of times he mentioned it, the chorus. Master7 didn’t quite make it to the end of his song before we stopped him but still earnt himself applause from the (mostly) appreciative audience. Especially this one bloke who was trying hard not to laugh.

So a very creative day all round for the kids. Unfortunately, though, some of the pretend play did carry over to the evening meal.

“Don’t use your fingers,” Tracey said to Miss5, and to our little girl’s credit she immediately pulled her hands out of her bowl….

….and planted her whole face, mouth open, into her food.

“I’m a doggy,” she said when she came up with a mouthful of mash.

“Good dog,” I said, and patted her on the head. When I spotted the horrified look on Tracey’s face I added, “Well she is. She did what you asked.” Her expression changed to a smile, although I confess she was shaking her head.

Yep, I think Tracey feels she’s made the right decision changing careers.

I’m happy too – with Tracey home I’ll have more time to teach our cute little puppies some tricks.


When not typing away over here and checking his stats every two minutes

Bruce Devereaux hangs out at his ‘BIG FAMILY little income’ Facebook Page.

’raising a family on little more than laughs’

1 Comment

What do you think?

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.