Skip to main content

Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to have to explain things to them always and forever.


Here is the last of the boys with balloons series, and it features the pugnacious pair attached to their respective dirigibles. I have lose plans to take both of them to the beach tomorrow morning, so hope to have some moody shots to share with you all if the cloud persists.

Pros and Cons of Toddlers Part FOUR

Pro #4: They're TRUSTING. You can have a lot of fun with a toddler. You can tell them that you used to have a pet crocodile, and they'll believe you. You can tell them that dinosaurs died out because they didn't brush their teeth and they'll ooh and ahh and start bushing their teeth. You can tell them pretty much anything, and as long as you keep a straight face, they'll earnestly nod and murmur positive thoughts.

Con #4: They're UNTRUSTWORTHY. They lie. All the time. Well, maybe they're not lying, and just have bad memories, but you can't rely on the to consistently hold up their end of a deal. So the next time you bargain half a lolly snake up front for a poo on the toilet, don't hold your breath on hearing that PLOP.

Comments

Only a well balanced adult is able to read the mind of a child!!
Kitty said…
ha. omg.
they are so darned cute, though.
Kris McCracken said…
Blognote, yet the act of reading unbalances the mind!
Kris McCracken said…
Kitty, they are all right...
yamini said…
Lovely portrait. God bless them both!!!!
Kris McCracken said…
Yamini, I have some good photos from the weekend up my sleeve.

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut