Miss7’s Mini Me Moment

Every now and then I see a glimpse of me coming out in the kids. Which is fine. Unless my wife sees it as well.

Take today for example.

The kids were having a hell awesome time in the backyard playing a form of Red Rover which involved a hose, running and lots of laughing.

One of my fondest memories as a child is playing Red Rover in the front yard of my home in Galileo St on the Gold Coast with a heap of local kids.

But this isn’t the bit which reminded me of myself.

During the game, despite parental instructions from the sideline, there were a number of ‘head shots’ with the stream of water. Or worse, ‘groin shots’.

“Aim for their torso,” Tracey called out. “Their chest or back.”

But, of course, this was taken on board more as a suggestion than a decree, and when we tried to bring them to account we got the inevitable:

“It was an accident.”

Which will be much more believable if my kids ever manage to pull off a straight face.

But then I remember doing similar things when I was a kid and playing with my siblings and a jet of water.

But this isn’t the bit which reminded me of myself.

My lovely wife has been counting calories lately in an attempt to look 16 again, and one of the luxuries she allows herself are diet drinks. Specifically, Sarsaparilla and Ginger Beer. And the kids have taken to them as well.

Which you’d think would remind me of Tracey instead of me, but then this afternoon halfway through the game of Red Rover, Miss7 came running over with her Ginger Beer and sort of asked me to look after it so she could run to wrestle the hose off her brother while he sprayed water up her nostrils, directly into her brain.

Only she used a phrase more associated with drunk guys about to do dumb things. Specifically, according to my wife, me.

“Hold my beer!” she squealed excitedly.

Leaving me holding her drink and trying to explain how this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to my very concerned wife.

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“Raising a family on little more than laughs”