This will hurt me...

Dead babies. Bellerive boardwalk, Bellerive. November 2012. Wordless Wednesday.

DUCK! LOTS OF DUCKS! Here are some Pacific Black Duck's spotted at the Royal Hobart Botanical Gardens here in Hobart. You probably already know that, but the Pacific Black is the most versatile of the Australian ducks. It frequents all types of water, from isolated forest pools to tidal mudflats, as well as Royal Hobart Botanical Gardens.

Here is Henry's hand creeping into the shot, trying to ensure that the little wallaby (still residing in the bigger wallaby's front pocket), gets some tucker. I for one am certainly glad that my babies are not glued to me 24/7. It's bad enough that they can both open doors now...

Pigs, glorious pigs! Here are some little piggies bedded down at ZooDoo. I'm not sure which one went to the market, but I am reasonably certain that the fellow that ate roast beef is the cause of mad cow disease...

Both lads were considerably more taken by the baby emus than they were the grown ups. Yes, they still had the propensity to rush straight at you, but that's easier to take when they are a foot high, rather than the full six or seven!

How about that drool? It makes kissing all the more exciting! I forgot to mention that on Fathers Day, we all went boat spotting down on the harbour estuary, promenaded along the waterfront, and then feasted on squid, prawns, chips and the like for an early lunch. Whilst doing so, I spotted a fellow with a ruddy great video camera - of the professional kind - filming us. It turns out he was filming some 'colour' for Al Jazeera's English language TV station. He liked the look of Henry harassing seagulls so much, the little bloke had to do it over and over again until the Arabic news network agent was satisfied with the results. So, if you're a fan of Al Jazeera, keep and eye out for any stories on Hobart, Tasmania, Australia, or small westerners who disturb sea birds. If you spot us, let me know!

There has been no shortage of revolutionary zeal from Ezra this evening. He's not happy, and he doesn't mind sharing it. There is a touch of the Toussaint L'ouverture's about his breast beating however, which does not bode well for the sustainability of his approach. There's only so much grumbling that l'état can take before des mesures draconiennes become necessary...

Here is Ezra back when he was a little angel, and not the grizzling, snotty, always into cupboards and drawers, toy scattering domestic terrorist that we've been faced with most evenings.

Here's another from the Hits 'n Memories basket. This was taken at around the time that Henry started standing up unaided. We're getting serious flashbacks now - to the point that the post-traumatic stress long suspected is almost confirmed - as Ezra begins that constant test of endless attempts to climb into the oven, get his hands on the steak knives, scale up the pantry, rewire the heat pump on and on and on it goes... Oh yes, they look all sweet and innocent with their chubby little thighs, beatific grins and ebullient zest for life. Yet, on a daily basis, this zest takes on an ephemeral quality. All of this want need to learn at every single point through the day wears you down .

Update. Tonight Ezra ate one whole turnip , and one whole Dutch Cream potato . Henry didn't touch his turnip. However, Henry ate a liberal amount of Polish Sausage and a handful of oven baked potato chips . By my calculations, and at this rate, Ezra shall surpass Henry in size and muscle mass in thirteen months , whereupon he will be the one burying the other in the sand at the beach.

Humility prevents me from saying that I have the most handsome children going around, so I won't say it. Obviously, I can't stop anyone else from saying it, however... I was thinking about having a caption competition, but don't have a prize. Is anyone interested in some old cassette tapes?

Here is my sweet little baboo. He's very happy here. As a special treat, please note Henry's feet in the background...

Here is the cranky terror of the deep State of Tasmania himself. I think that we must have more teeth on the way given his mood all weekend. I did manage to snap this one of him in an executive mood. Consider yourself lucky that you're seeing a smile and not hearing a wail...

Here you can see Henry's very best friend just last night. Yes, it is the moon . So Theme Thursday is upon us again and the theme actually has nothing whatsoever to do with anything lunar, space, sky or suchlike. The theme - as I am sure that you have guessed already - is EGG . Egg?!?! Yes EGG . You see, when I look up at a nice moon like that, in a clear dark sky, I think of the precious little EGG that cute little babies are before that filthy little tadpole appears and turns into a baby. I have this whole notion of the egg sitting there in the womb uterus cervix pancreas – wherever it is that eggs sit in a lady's tum – and it sits there and glows like the moon in a dark sky. It’s a very romantic notion of a lady's reproductive system I think, and doesn’t involve blood or amniotic fluid. Maybe any stray stars can be platelets of something... Anyway, at some point I imagine my two young fellows were once lovely little moons eggs lurking within their mum, waiting all ...

Here is the little bloke threatening to crawl. Jennifer has a very narrow definition of crawling, and reckons that he can't. I am a more positive and creative chap, and am firmly of the opinion that Ezra has more than met the criteria of a crawl. Of a fashion. Note: I have had word from the chief steward, and Ezra has weighed in this morning at a solid 10.12 kilograms. That's a fair chunk of beefcake!

Like The Old Man and the Sea , it is prize game fish for me. You can keep your mullets, flatheads, blob fish, gropers, grey nurses, box jellyfish and the like. It's Great White Sharks, Toothy Babies or nothing for me!

So he was set to sleep through the night for a third straight night but a panicking mother worried about potential case of sudden infant death syndrome meant that he was awoken by accident at three in the morning. Compounding the little bloke's poor start to the day was Henry trapping his finger in an old cassette deck that was on its way out of the house. In her panic, Jen forgot the location of the vital "Open" button (well, it was my old ghetto blaster ). I managed to free him with the digit still attached, but seemingly not much worse off than a nasty bruise on his driving finger (the one that alerts other drivers and pedestrians to their own infractions). Consequently, young Ezra has not really been on form today. Hence the pensive look.

When Ez puts his serious voice on, everybody pays attention. I'm posting this in honour of his achievement last night of sleeping through the entire night for the very first time . What makes this feat even more special is the fact that a certain wandering toddler managed to set the clock radio in Ez's room off to ring out at midnight. Bear in mind that the hideous BEEP! ... BEEP! ... BEEP! ... BEEP! ... BEEP! ... noise loud enough to wake me up on the other side of the house. With one bedroom door closed shut. And another as good as closed. Yet in the bedroom, there lay one little baby soundly asleep. The same baby who has woken up when I've gently cleared my throat three rooms away previously. I can't explain it either.

It is an exquisite form of torture, sharing a room with a teething baby. There is something almost to be admired in the proficiency in timing one’s waking to maximise the disruption to his the sleep of both parents. Seriously, wait for them to get in bed, maybe let them browse the Internet a little on matching laptops, let them just nestle into sleep then WHAM! ! ” WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! ” See for me, an intense wail ensures that I won’t back to sleep for a minimum of 45 minutes, but more usually between 45 minutes and 90 minutes. Ez has been waking every two hours. You might be able to see the frustration here. Thus, for every two hour cycle of baby sleep, I generally get somewhere between half hour to an hour. And he doesn’t really go back to sleep after 5 am. And Henry wakes between 6 and 6:30. And I leave for work at 7:20. It is a good thing that he has a nice smile. Oh, the above photo was taken yesterday morning just off Sullivan's Cove. For some reason...

Not content with keeping us up all night, he pulls our hair in the daytime! It's a good thing that he has very kissable cheeks...