This will hurt me...

'Cause me say listen to the drum, a me say listen to the bass Give me little music, make me wind up me waist.

Ezra, wait your turn! Honestly, it’s like walking around with the Beatles, screaming girls squealing, screaming and throwing themselves at Henry and Ezra left, right and centre…

The Swedish chef from the Muppet Show has nothing on my Ezra. You have never seen a mess like Ez’s mess…

So this Christmas afternoon saw us venture down to Nutgrove Beach down in Sandy Bay to check out their new playground. The playground is fine, the local kids, less so... That said, I did get to try out the new-fangled 'panorama' option on the camera [click to enlarge].

" MUST... get... camera... " " Must... GET... camera... " " Must... get... CAMERA... "

This is an ad for a toy. That's right, a toy for kids. No jokes. ... Fucking hell .

Here is the view looking up towards Mount Wellington from the bottom of the overpass next to Lindisfarne North Primary School . This will be the school that I will be more than happy to send Henry and the next one (and the new baby, it will be coming online in early-August). Close by, nice size, friendly, no toffs in ties and blazers. Now, after the fallout from my commentary on the French Rail unions yesterday, I certainly won't be drawn on offering my opinion on the recent offerings of the Australian Education Union and their ever-increasing demands. The letters faxed in from the SNCF legal team were very interesting and made me think twice about public comment on this thorny issue. (To the SNCF lawyers: je mai reconsidérer mon avis indiqué si vous pouvez brancher sur moi la sauce que vous avez de chemin de fer en cours!) Thus, I have decided to hold my tongue and grab a famous quote from Albert Shanker, the former President of the American Federation of Teachers: "When sch...

The topic for today's first post came to me while preparing Henry’s breakfast this morning (and helping him eat it), I got to thinking about a topic that has crossed my mind on other accessions in the past, and has yet to be satisfactorily resolved. What do people feed their kiddies for breakfast in other cultures? Now, Henry probably has the stereotypical Australian breakfast: Two Weet-bix (albeit with rice milk); Toast liberally smeared with Vegemite; Water; A little bit of the raspberry cake that I made yesterday. This was a reward for being a good boy this morning, and not standard practice. I might be wrong, but I have in my mind convoluted ideas about French kiddies gnawing croissants and fancy pastries; Sami kiddies tearing at dried reindeer; Mexican kiddies scoffing breakfast burritos; German kiddies nibbling on cold meats and boiled eggs; Inuit kiddies gulping down seal; Indian kiddies eating daal and naan; Kenyan kiddies chowing down on some sort of maize porridge; Swed...

You know, this kind of freaks me out a bit. Like some sick game by perverts, many of whom may well get off on it. It also reads as a slight overreaction, and will no doubt annoy these kids. For more the story behind this picture, visit the Daily Mail , those fine purveyors of nonsense.

On the bus this morning I was thinking about what Henry's favourite toys might be, and why he likes them. At the moment, the cream of the crop appears to be: A broom; A wooden spoon; An empty box; Rocks; His mother's wallet; An old mop; The watering can; And an untold number of plastic containers. I've been trying to deduce from this what vocation he may be headed for (after a long and distinguished career at centre half back for Essendon Football Club , of course!) I'd like to think that the wide selection of favourite things indicates that it's open, but at the moment his personality type seems to suggest too me "Brutal Third World Dictator". Should I be worried?