Note To Future Self

For a change of pace, we’re taking our Christmas vacation in the first world.

While we do appreciate having a white christmas, it’s nice to be wearing short sleeves at New Years.

Many more photos later, obviously.

Here we go again. We’re all okay. Still have power and I presume water and sewer – no tell-tale ponds in the back garden at any rate.

However, I am very much looking forward to getting on a plane in the wee hours. Hopefully the airport is open by then.

After a couple of weeks of wet weather, we joined the Swede’s family for a weekend escape to the West Coast, with promises of fun in the sun. Of course, usually it’s the other way around, but the weather gods have apparently parked a high just downstream from us, causing all the ook to stall out over Christchurch.

After a wet drive over the pass, the weather obliged with lovely hotness for two days, and enough sand flies to go around.

Besides lots of scampering in the surf, we enjoyed the Pororari River track.

Predictably, the weather worsened as we approach home, but ’twas nice to get out of the house for a bit.

It’s been a bit of a wet summer here, but never mind that, let’s go to the zoo and terrorize some ducklings…

Cuz nothing lasts forever, even warm December rain.

Up to this point my child has been raised solely on a diet of organic free-range beeswax and wagyu beef sliders. Schooled solely in the works of Merritt, Brock, and Darnielle. Foisted off onto only the brainiest of children’s television.

And yet, today we returned from the library with a book titled Monkey with a Tool Belt and the Noisy Problem (sequel to the Pulitzer and Man Booker prize winning Monkey with a Tool Belt).

What is this bubble-headed pablum? Where is the weighty, serious, issues-laden children’s literature for the Tiger Mother and Lemur Father to depress upon their offspring?

Dare I say it, this is a perfectly respectably, perfectly disposable kids book. Fun to read the first eleventy-dozen times, bright, positive and inoffensive. There those times when even the good Dr gets a bit preachy. And you get to say “Chico Bon Bon” (the protagonist’s name, of course). What more do you need?

Ruminating over this photo, wondering what sort of pithy special sauce could spice up this cold pavlova, I was suddenly reminded of that olde saw from my youth, (sic) “wave your hands in the air like you just don’t care,” a phrase I have actually heard coming from my daughter’s mouth.

Of all of the parental responsibilities, I’d never fully appreciated my role in filling my child with the archaic hipster witticisms from my youth. I have needed a new hobby… Perhaps I can also infuse her with a rabid fascination with bad-idea fashion trends that well preceded her upon this earth. Heh.

In related news, from a misguided effort to, well, who knows, she’s now convinced her morning oatmeal is best referred to as “pizz-orridge.” And sometimes we have “pizz-ancakes.” Word.

For tomorrow’s holiday celebration, EM’s creche asked us to “bring along a plate of food that celebrates your culture.”

Baked macaroni and cheese.

With cut-up hot dogs.

Oh. Yeah.

p.s. I was going to make tuna noodle hot dish, but I couldn’t find the right kind of potato chips to sprinkle on the top….

As previously promised, yes, there were pukeko cupcakes…