When I was a kid, I appointed myself chief cubby house decorator. I remember spending an entire afternoon with my mini paint set, standing on tippy toes and painting as much of the wooden walls as I could reach. I’d turned the boring brown planks into a beautiful, splodgy rainbow. I was chuffed with my work. My mother was not. In fact, she even tried to wash my masterpiece off! I was dumbfounded by her disapproval. I still remember that feeling I felt so often as a kid: that my parents lived in an entirely different, extremely confusing and … Read More
Kids are little sponges. They soak up and absorb everything they see around them. This was very apparent with our children on return from our Christmas holiday in New Zealand. On our first morning home, the kids raced out to their cubby house telling me to stay away as they had something to set up – I was to be called when it was all ready. If the kids were inside our house I would normally be suspicious about what they were up to if I was asked to stay away (it’s not usually a good thing I’ve discovered!), … Read More
Those cushions on the floor? They’re not cushions. They’re the big leathery bumps on the back of a humongous crocodile, ready to gobble you up if you don’t run across it to get to the other side of the swamp.Your favourite books strewn down the hallway? They’re not books. They’re
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