Pffts & Giggles

“Time to go to sleep,” I called down to the rear of the bus.

With the older three kids away for the night – a couple sleeping over at their cousin’s place and one with my parents – Miss4 and Miss7 had hunkered down in Cloudland (our bed) for shits and giggles.

“But Daddy,” Miss4 called back, “I’m by myself.”

“Where’s your sister?” I wanted to know.

When I’m sitting at our office my chair juts out and blocks the aisle, so there was no way she’d snuck past me.

“Inside with Mummy,” said Miss4, proving me wrong.

“Why is she in there?”

“She had a sore ear.”

That did sound vaguely familiar, and when I thought about it there was definitely a marked reduction in crying on the bus. It also explained why Tracey wasn’t dealing with this.

“Well, you can still lie down and go to sleep,” I told my youngest daughter.

“No,” she countered. “I think I’ll go inside too.”

When she threw her legs over the side of the bed to climb down I sighed heavily, because knew I’d have to do something drastic.

I stood up.

“How about if I give you a huggle and tuck you in?” I said, walking back to her.

As I approached she spun back onto the bed and threw the doona over her head.

So that’s the game we’re going to play, I thought to myself.

“Where’s my girl?” I said loudly. “Where’d she go? I thought she was in the bed.” I gave her a little tickle through the doona and she giggled. “Is that you? Are you in there?”

“No!” came a slightly muffled squeal.

“I think you are,” I said, taking hold of the edge of the doona dangling over the side of the bed and then quickly lifting it up and shoving my head under with her. Our eyes met and I asked, “What are you doing under here?”

“I’m smelling my fart,” she grinned at me.

Regrettably, that  made two of us.

She was quite happy to give me a reenactment for the camera.
Where’d she go?
A great Gotcha! moment. So proud. 
The older kids are making the most of not going to school – they’re loving walking their little sister to prep and racing in to pick her up to the point where they don’t want us to go with them. Some lovely warm moments I’m tucking away in my ‘give me strength’ bank for when they’re being shits.
Took myself and Miss9 off to the doctor today. I needed to get a check up for the suspected diverticulitis episode I had at Christmas and she needed the doctor to look at a splinter. “You don’t go to the doctor for a splinter,” I told her. So she went off and wrote a list of other things she needed to see him about.
So many great questions, like ‘anything in me that can kill me?’ I felt sorry for the doctor but even sorrier for the people patiently sitting in the waiting room wondering why the doctor was running an hour behind by 10am.
Kenny The Bus is booked in to have the exhaust redirected (away from the bikes on the back) and the engine serviced, including the possibility of a new radiator core and a new radiator fan (because a bit snapped off in my hand when I was chatting to the mechanic to book it in). Meanwhile, we (read as, Tracey’s dad) have been working on getting some of the windows to open so we can have some air flow when we’re traveling. They’re shut solid. Someone in the past has attempted to open some of them without any luck – there are bends in the metal frames where they’ve been worked on with a screwdriver. In two days my FIL has thankfully managed to move four and get them sliding freely. Only half a dozen or so to go, Ken 🙂 
Meanwhile, I’ve been attempting, unsuccessfully,  to change this bloody lightbulb.

Raising a family on little more than laughs


  • Hi Bruce, I have just discovered your blog and I love it, cracks me up! I love your honest and c’est la vie attitude! Beats worrying about every little thing! Bruce, I grew up in Gympie, moving to Redcliffe when I was 10 and we went to One Mile State school, I have really wonderful memories of growing up in a small country town ( well, it was back then). Have a wonderful Australia Day.

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