Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight: always to try to be a little kinder than is necessary?

So we've bought this massive great bed for Henry months ago, but he prefers the cot. Meanwhile Ez is stuck in a portacot waiting for the cot to be freed up when hippie hair Henry moves to the big boy bed.

I'm thinking Ezra will be in that bed first, myself...

Comments

KL said…

I know why Henry is refusing that bed. It is because this cot looks very comfortable with all the enclosures around it compared to that big boy bed. I myself would prefer this cot-bed :-D

25 July 2009 at 02:45

Roddy said…

Convince Elmo to move to the bigger bed and perhaps Henry will move with him. I dunno, perseverance I guess will win out in the end.

25 July 2009 at 19:14

Whoistin-tinandsnowy? said…

Hi! Kris,
Maybe Henry, just feel comfortable with familiar. He probably so use to sleeping in that bed that he don't want to "give" it up yet!
Hi! Jen and Ezra,...
Take care!
DeeDee ;-D

26 July 2009 at 06:45

Kris McCracken said…

KL, he is stubborn, like his mother.

29 July 2009 at 08:27

Kris McCracken said…

Roddy, Elmo likes the cot.

29 July 2009 at 08:27

Kris McCracken said…

DeeDee, he'll have to be the one to decide, you can't force him.

29 July 2009 at 08:27

MurciaDailyPhoto said…

I see that Henry does not want to stop being a baby. Surely, after the summer (here in Spain) my son, who is now almost 21 months of age (the next day August 1 will meet the 21) will be spent in the crib to bed, but I do not know if I have to wait he has 2 years of age. What do you think about this, Kris?

30 July 2009 at 20:15

Kris McCracken said…

MDP, I think that children are both simple and complex and always surprise!

3 August 2009 at 10:05

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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