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I put my hat on the dash of the LandCruiser next to his. As we drove into town for church, pocket full of stars was playing on the radio. For the first time in his life my blokey bloke husband said, "Aww look at that, how romantic!" #cutehusband #thewayintotown @mysterious_cowboy #bettertakeapicture

#thewayintotown #cutehusband #bettertakeapicture

Dinner Conversations & Invisible Boyfriends

Every night that we eat dinner together, we always ask the children about what they did during their day. In our full lives, the dinner table is sometimes the glue that holds our relationships together. It’s where we acknowledge, value and celebrate both God and each other.

Each meal starts with voicing our gratitude to God. Therefore, our dinner table is most certainly a Holy place, and that ALWAYS includes Gods wonderful sense of humour.

One evening Abagael and Rowan negotiated their vegetables, as usual. True to form, I couldn't see Rowans' single small piece of broccoli through all the tomato sauce that he had applied. Abagael had a massive pile of greens and was disappointed to discover that there weren't anymore. Their feelings about vegetables could not have been more different.

"So what happened at school today guys?" I asked. Before answering me, Abagael turned to look at Rowan. She seemed to be considering whether or not to tell us something. At her gaze, Rowan's eyes widened, silently pleading with her not to say whatever she was thinking about telling us.

Unfortunately for Rowan Abagael is all about doing the right thing and following the rules. Especially when it involves treating others with kindness. The odds were never good that his misdeed would fly under the radar tonight.

"So what happened?" I pressed. Abagael finally cracked under the pressure and drew a deep breath to speak. Rowan's gaze met my eyes a moment then dropped towards his lonely piece of sauce covered broccoli. His face settled into a remorseful mask, and he bit his lip, then sighed a deep defeated sigh.

"Rowan sat on Carla's invisible boyfriend...." Abagael told us.

"Yeah, I did..." Rowan confessed.

The End

Rowan takes his seven-year-old philosophy up a notch.

Rowan answered a profound question this morning with the words "Gods Love." After our little conversation, I went and posted it on my blog because I thought it was quite a gem of a concept.

Just now, Rowan came back to share his thoughts with me, in more depth.

"Mum, when you think about it, Gods Love is the answer to so many questions. Like, what is a tree made of?" he posed.

"God's Love?" I offered, in theme with the topic.

"No mum. A tree is made of molecules. Everything is made of molecules." he corrected me.

"Oh.."

"but why are there molecules?" he pressed.

"Gods love," I tried while wondering if he knew what an atom was.

"Yes! That's right, no matter how smallish pieces we break something into, its stars with Gods love, and that is why its the answer to so many questions," he told me.

"Wow Rowan, so Gods Love IS the answer to every question!" I exclaimed. I didn't have to fake my awe.

"Oh, I don't know about that! It might not be the answer to every question. I've asked a lot of questions in my mind, that's been the answer to all of them. No matter how big or small the question was. Of course, I haven't asked all the questions. So I don't know if Gods Love is the answer to every question." He elaborated.

"That's fair enough," I agreed.

"Well I might never know if its the answer to every question, but it IS the answer to every problem." he nodded.

My mind was blown! But he just wanted to know then, if he was allowed build lego on the dining table and watch his Saturday morning cartoons, at the same time...

Whats IS “GIRL POWER,” all about Rowan?

My seven-year-old son Rowan is excited for the "Girls change the world" Film festival on ABC ME today.

The channel has an add where girls talk about some opinions of girls, self-esteem and the negative things about being a girl. They address the problem saying basically that's not how we roll. Afterwards, another advert for all the girl power filled shows they will be running today.

When Rowan realised that the film festival was on TV today, he fist pumped the air and said.

"This is going to be great! I didn't know that some girls didn't realise that they are really strong! That's not good enough! Dads got more muscles than you and can lift a bigger bookshelf, but strong is not just about muscles."

"Whats it all about Ro?" I asked him.

"Gods Love!" He smiled with a thoughtful nod of certainty.

Don't cry over spilt milk...

At the tender age of four, Rowan had been so proud to make his breakfast himself. The complicated alignment of two rectangular wheat bricks, required to somehow fit into the small round bowl was a great achievement in its self. A milestone of an Australian childhood that many adults still struggle to achieve.

Learning to pour the milk -as you may or may not recall- is a difficult skill to master. Needless to say, the force of the incoming milk somehow overbalanced the bowl and sent the precious liquid cascading over the table, the floor and, worst of all his favourite dinosaur shorts.

Those shorts were, "the really great ones" that Annie gave him. The dinosaur shorts that "a real palaeontologist would probably wear." Of course, this spilt milk was a sad occasion, after the initial shock from the cold deluge wore off, Rowan began to cry, devastated. "mum but I wanted to wear these pants today and to bed and tomorrow!!!" He sobbed. "It's alright I'll wash them, and you can wear them tomorrow. They need a wash anyway" I tried to comfort him. While also attempting to remember just how many days Rowan HAD been wearing those wonderful dinosaur shorts. He managed to answer me with a gravely breathless "OK," sandwiched between his loud, heartfelt sobs.

Abagael decided it was time to step in to try and cheer him up. "Rowan you know they say "don't cry over spilt milk," she told him compassionately. Her empathetic eyes were brimming with wisdom and concern. But the comforting hand that she went to ley on his back was swatted away by Rowan.

Rowans had suddenly paused his weeping. His eyes widened in anger and shock at Abagael's words. His upper lip tightened, and a contemptuous grimace flickered across his features. His blond hair stood out against the darkening redness of his face, as he drew the sort of a deep breath, that always came before his loudly voiced four-year-old opinions.

"NO, THEY DONT ABY!! WHY WOULD ANYONE SAY THAT!! EVER!! WHENEVER YOU SPILL MILK ITS SOO SAD!!!!" he erupted. Then choked out another couple of sobs at the injustice of it all, before rounding on me full of fury.

"MUM! WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME!!!!????" he screeched.

The end.

ROWAN ANSWERS A RHETORICAL QUESTION

There was a lineup of remorseful kids on the deck. Three of my own four children and my three beloved spare children, whos' talented SES coordinator mother is a dear friend of mine and was out searching for a lost man in the bush. Hence the nearly doubled child population of my household.

Every single one of the children was in deep trouble. Thier crime, repeatedly being loud outside the room where I was trying to get the baby to sleep.

It had been as though the space in the hallway outside the baby's room, was THE new place to hang out and have sibling arguments. It had become hot property for diecast miniature car races or the designated landing zone for parachuting GI Joes.

In three-year-old Euna's case, the actual door to the babies room was her personal parachute landing zone for Naked barbie dolls with polyester dreadlocks, who had long since misplaced all their accessories... Including their parachutes.

Out on the deck, I addressed them with the body language of an agro army commander. I made sure to use a voice that could go from stern to scary in a flash.

I'm pretty sure they could feel my rage, barely hidden... Any minute I'd dish out an all week ban on Netflix or no pancakes Saturday morning. Perhaps something that was worse, a punishment that they hadn't even thought of yet. Something really grim, like no brown sugar on your Wheetbix for a month!

They all looked at their toes apologetic. Some even remorseful. Perhaps, I thought, this time they'd manage to stay quite near the babies room for a little while.

I began my lecture in the face of the terrified silence.

"On what planet do you think that level of shouting is considered being quiet?" I asked them projecting my hurt and threat into every syllable.

The girls, three, seven and eight years old, kept their eyes down, silent, possibly too afraid to speak. The two older boys ten and eleven years of age, met my eyes with crumpling apologetic expressions.

But Rowan age seven and one half, with his glasses on, peered up at me and proceeded to answer my rhetorical question.

"Perhaps on a planet where everyone is already deaf because the T-Rex's were roaring too loud," he said quietly.

I could feel myself quickly losing my threatening edge to a smile as he took another breath to continue, seeing that I wasn't convinced.

"And on that planet, they would either need to communicate with writing or if they didn't have a texta, they'd have to shout...." he added.

I just stared at him trying hard to keep my face as cross as possible.

"But because the people on the planet can't hear very well -because of the T-rex's- the shouting would sound pretty quiet and wouldn't probably wake up their baby brothers...." he elaborated quietly peering up at me through his star wars reading glasses. He seemed to pause in thought again...

"But we're not on that planet... sorry mum..." he quickly amended.

"No we're not.... and your all exiled to downstairs, if I hear anything louder than a whisper in the next ten minutes THERE WILL BE NO ICE BLOCKS!" I threatened, pointing at the staircase. They all fled for their lives, and I stayed behind sniggering as I made myself a coffee.

Ah, Rowan you only get better with each passing day.

The End

This is what happens I go to the Lions charity book store WITHOUT my husband who usually says to me, "love, are you sure you can read all those before you die of old age?" To be fare, he is a carpenter by trade and his shed is full of old planks of hoarded timber. Really they will make great bookshelves for all my old books and we DO have lots of walls...

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Paused my editing because I heard a commotion in the lounge room.. #ninjawebster had taken #anniebuttons favourite illegal spot on the couch. Video evidence. #lapdogvslapcat

#anniebuttons #ninjawebster #lapdogvslapcat

Three Red Smarties #heartmelt

When Rowan was four, every Thursday in school term we went to the bakery for the women's group I co-ordinated.

Rowan always looked forward to his baby-chino. It was always an exceptional baby-chino because Kelly, the barista (according to Rowan) made "the best baby chinos in the world!" Complete with a chocolate syrup smiley face and 5 or six smarties. "The red ones are my favourite," he told me this particular Thursday. He was very excited because on this occasion three of the five smarties were red. "Reds your favourite colour mum," He reminded me. "That's right." I nodded. I was busy texting someone who was having trouble finding the bakery cafe and not paying attention properly. Three red smarties then slid across the table propelled by a little hand. "I want you to have them," he said. #heartmelt! "Oh, you're so beautiful and generous Rowan!" I gasped captivated by his kindness. "I'm not beautiful I'm cool!" he said seriously offended. "Alright mate you're very cool, but you have a beautiful heart," I clarified. "Thanks, mum," he said.

Too cute. I love generosity :) Matthew 10:8 freely you receive so freely you should give.

Pockets of Lumbricina -a four year old boys pockets show his mother the way he thinks.

One Saturday morning when Rowan was four years old, he asked me if I knew where his small orange toy dinosaur was.

He had just been playing with it moments earlier, and I could see a lump in the right pocket of his cargo shorts. "Is it in your pocket? Something's in there, you better check." I suggested. Rowan proceeded to empty his pockets, and the contents were as follows: One pirate sticker Some small rocks Several blades of grass and... A handful of SHRIVELLED DECEASED EARTHWORMS!!!

"Argh! Rowan what IS that!?" I gasped. He looked from me to the handful of worms and said, "ah it's just lots of worms..."

My daughter Abagael drawn by my alarm came to look at the handful of worms also.

"Rowan they are all dead!" she exclaimed.

Rowan shook his head once "Nah they're fine, I gave them grass and rocks. See!" he told us calmly pointing to the rocks and grass.

Photo evidence attached:

TRICERO-SQUASHED an argument between siblings to make you smile

Not long after seeing the original Lion King movie, Abagael aged 5 and Rowan aged 4, reenacted scenes from the film while playing.

Of all the creatures in the story, Abagael chose to be Zazu. I tried not to read into it too much. She was using a rubber ducky as the Zazu character. Rowan upon her instruction was supposed to be Mufasa. He opted to use a large plastic triceratops. The dialogue seemed to commence in the middle of one of the most dramatic scenes.

"Sir there are hyenas in the pride lands!" Abagael said urgently. "You stay here I will kill them with my triceratops horn!" Rowan heroically responded. "No, you say 'Zazu I'll see to this, you take Simba home'," Abagael instructed him. "Zazu! You don't tell me what to do; triceratopses sometimes eat birds. Wise guy!" Rowan declared.

There was a shocked pause from Abagael, "Ah, Rowan, Triceratops are herbivores. They don't eat birds because birds aren't plants." she interrupted the game to explain.

Rowan shook his head at her slowly with a look that said, poor ignorant Abagael. "They actually DO eat birds Aby. Because birds always sit on plants and triceratops are always busy watching clouds and eat birds by mistake, all the time," he educated her.

Abagael nodded her eyes widening with enlightenment. "Oh, I didn't know that! Well, I'm sitting on a rock, which is on the ground. So in the game, you don't eat me. Alright? Now I will say 'there are hyenas in the pride lands' and you say 'Zazu I'll see to this, you take Simba home,' ready?"

She started over.

"There are hyenas in the pride lands!" Zazu warned Mufasa again.

To be fair Rowan hadn't officially agreed to Abagael's dialogue suggestions. In a flash, Rowans Triceratops had managed to force an alarmed Suqaek out of the rubber ducky as the heavy plastic dinosaur slammed down on its head. "Stomp! You were standing on a rock so I just Tricero-squashed you!"

Abagaels stomping footsteps and muffled sobs gave away her approach as she came to tell me of Rowan's crimes. Complete with balled fists, stiff arms at her sides and sentences punctuated with an angry stamp of her right foot.

"Mummy! -foot stamp-

Rowan stomped on Zazu even though I told him to tell Zazu to take Simba home!!! -foot stamp- I've told him four times!! -foot stamp- I told him!! -double foot stomp-

Rowan rushed to defend himself, approaching me from the other side of the lounge room.

"It's just by accident! Triceratops are always watching clouds! I didn't see him! I told Aby a hundred times that triceratopses are always watching clouds!!!" he rebutted.

An argument ensued. "Well, I told you a thousand times!" Abagael topped him. "I told you one hundred and a thousand times!" Rowan said utilising a number in his vocabulary that he had recently learned off dinosaur train.

"I told you millions of times!" Abagael pressed. Mimicking a numerical over exaggeration that I frequented in conversations regarding the laundry.

Four-year-old rowan scrabbled to come up with a higher number to trump his five-year-old sister. "I told you... a Mc-billion times!" Rowan eventually stated.

A few moments passed by, during which they try to make up bigger numbers to win their arguments. With quantities such as, "toast-a-thousand" and "juraso-normous-zero."

Eventually, Abagael stumped Rowan with information that she had gleaned the week prior from uncle Ben about the infinity, though it was possible that she had not remembered the information with accuracy.

"Well I told you affinity times, and affinity is the biggest number! It's an upside down eight." she declared with one hand on her hip and one impressing the point by waving the rubber ducky Zazu in the air near his face.

Rowan pursed his lips frowning. The downward curve of his lips slowly angled up into a smile as he realised that the point was moot.

"Well, I don't care I still Tricero- squashed you. You're a Zazu pancake," he concluded. Abagael sighed and suggested they play Barbies, which Rowan agreed to as long as the GI Joes didn't have to be the babies again.

It's always a blessing to have a sibling...

The END

Yarmulke or Breakfast?

Yarmulke- A Skullcap worn by Jewish men. -Google dictionary -Also: We aren’t Jewish, but Jesus was a Jew... so yeah...

Once upon a time, early in the morning, it was already too hot and the day hadn't officially started yet, not for grown-ups anyway.

The cicadas and the birds were already awake, so, it stood to reason that the preschool-aged children of the house were too. I listened to Aby and Rowan from my bed

Aby said: "I will make breakfast. I've got two red bowls, Rowan. You can have one."

Oh isn't that sweet of aby- I thought to myself...

Aby said: "No Rowan! No! It needs Wheetbix in it! It's not a YAM- MuKKi!!!"

I wondered silently to myself what a "Yam- mukki." was.

Rowan said: "goes with my sunglasses..."

Aby (crying): "I'm just trying to make breakfast!"- sob. "Stop it! Rowan!!!!"

Rowan said: "but it goes with my sunglasses!!!"

Abagael said: "It's NOT A Yum MuKKi!!!!!"

Obviously, I then had to get up and sort that argument out immediately.

Photo evidence below.

Clothes

It's 7:45 am in 2013, and I have to leave for preschool in 10 min, or I will be late for my tutorial. Conversation with my four-year-old daughter and three-year-old son below:

Me- "Abagael, please get dressed,"

Aby- "I'm going to wear the blue and white dress unless I feel like pink. Oh, I do feel like wearing pink, but I have to have shoulders for preschool. OK, I will wear the yellow dress. Oh, that's got a hole in the pocket. I know I will wear the other yellow one!"

Me- "OK aby. Well, what do you want to wear then Rowan?"

Rowan- "Clothes," #shruggs

Me- "Fair enough."

Due to popular demand, I do at this moment solemnly swear to blog my collection of short -often funny- stories over the next few weeks. Watch this space.

A word of caution regarding the song: “You canny’ shove your granny’ off the bus....”

This morning I was accidentally very rude to one of my elders...

For no apparent reason this morning a short obnoxious song known as, ‘You canny’ shove your granny off the bus,” became glued with severity into my head... My family refers to this as an “earworm”

As I walked a small herd of children through the bush track on the way to their school, I lost my battle against singing the song aloud.

So I was singing in a loud voice, -with an impressively enthusiastic dance- thinking no one but my crowd of small people could hear me, a song that was undoubtedly PG rated... Good thing they had a grown-up supervising them.

As a point of reference the following, troublesome ditty is sung to the tune of “shes coming round the mountain when she comes” -only a little bit faster- and is best performed with a thick Scottish accent.

“OH, YOU CANNY’ SHOVE YOUR GRANNY OFF THE BUS! OH, YOU CANNY’ SHOVE YOUR GRANNY OFF THE BUS!

OH, YOU CANNY’ SHOVE YOUR GRANNY, CAUSE SHES YOUR MOTHERS MAMMY!

OH, YOU CANNY’ SHOVE YOUR GRANNY OFF THE BUS! HEY!”

Then to my horror, an elderly woman appeared through the trees along the narrow track headed our way. She walked at 0.003 km an hour relying on a cane, which drew out the following awkward moments in a painfully slow time bending sort of way.

She had on a mauve jumper that was so masterfully knitted that it left me in awe. As well as a hunched back, a gorgeous magic silver white perm and no sign of an overriding sense of humour, that might bail me out of my terrible social blunder...

I offered her my best, “I’m sorry” sheepish grimace and made sure none of the gaggle of children got under her feet... She returned my gesture as she passed us slowly, with a deep frown and direct lingering gaze. I felt sure would have won an academy award nomination, for the Oscars for her expression. That was, if anyone else of voting age, had been there to see it.

“Sorry,” I said to her back, as she finally passed us. She responded with a slight raise of her walking stick. Possibly a threat, possibly a wave I wasn't sure...

I exhaled glad the moment seemed to have passed. Out of both habit and necessity, I paused to do a quick head count of children.

Now, you should know that I have a very special three-year-old who was amongst the crowd of children. Euna is very loud and can speak quite well and while the dear elder of mine was still only a few feet behind us, and well within earshot Euna chose to sing.

“OH, YOU CANNY’ SHOVE YOUR GRANNY OFF THE BUS!”

Possibly louder than I had sung it moments before.

So I did the mature thing and ran for it. I scooped up Euna. Whilst clamping my hand over her mouth and hissing shhh! To which she, of course, erupted in fits of giggles.

We all took off down the bush track -also known as the Unicorn forest-

As we ran my 7-year-old son shouted “IS IT A RACE?” and my 8-year-old daughter loudly wondered “WHY ARE WE RUNNING AWAY FROM THAT OLD LADY?”

And my little one-year-old Immanuel brought up the rear skwaking “GRANNY! OH! HEY!”

You really must be careful of earworms when walking through the Australian bushland with small children.

THE END.

I am so glad I am here to appreciate this. GASP. Australia you are so beautiful!

Note the intense encouragement of #beatricebumblebee and #tahloulawebster as I do the dishes. #canislupusfamiliaris #dogsofinstagram

#beatricebumblebee #dogsofinstagram #canislupusfamiliaris #tahloulawebster

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