Chicken Tonight?


Dear Genevieve,

I made a rookie mistake. I thought we were safe. After blatant and empirical evidence however, it has been made perfectly obvious that we were not.

I did actually think about it beforehand. A little. Although in hindsight my reasoning was a bit naive. I figured that we had already ticked the fast food box (because sometimes as parents we were really not prepared, sorry) and we had also ticked the pre-mixed bottle and packet food options (because sometimes as parents we are just lazy – probably should apologise for that one…). So for some reason I thought that meant we were fine…generically.

What I apparently failed to take into consideration however, was that we have most likely never before fed you the particular type of maniac serum that I am pretty sure is the additive 160B or Annatto. This is the thing that is supposed to make foods redder or yellower or something and is responsible for making children around the world into complete toads. You were no exception. In an extremely poor decision on my part, we fed you Chicken Tonight and in our house we have now decreed that it become Chicken Never Again!

To be clear, it wasn’t the chicken and the problem may only be with the Butter Chicken jar of the brand but mark my words, it was a problem. You went WILD. You were hyperactive, aggressive and a whole level of crazy that I have never before seen (nor wish to for that matter). Your dad got to enjoy the benefits in the shower and then I got to see first hand the particular brand of horrible you had become afterwards as it was still working its way out of your system.

Firstly, I couldn’t get a nappy on you. I couldn’t even get a nappy underneath you. You twisted this way and that with a fervor of one convinced the world would end if you so much as touched such an absorbent article. So in order to regroup and gather reinforcements, I decided to plonk you in your cot for a bit. Behind bars. Which didn’t phase you in the least as you ran round and round in circles, touching one end of the cot and then the other before stopping in the far corner. This was where you paused for a minute…looked up at me…laughed and then peed!

So then I had to wrangle you into a nappy (which was only really technically on – it was hardly a proper job on my part), change your sheets and finally beat a hasty retreat leaving your dad to put you down because I am a coward.

Now I don’t know about you but I never want to do that again. You seemed to really like the meal but I hardly think it was worth it. I’m sure we will go through something of the like again as we inadvertently contaminate you with crazy juice at some point in the future but hopefully that’s not for a long time!

Alles Liebe,


Ps. I shamelessly stole the image and have no rights to its use whatsoever.


Train Tetris

Train View

Dear Lady On The Train,

This is just a guess but you have never played Tetris, have you? I am just supposing this because you seem particularly un-adept at being a functional and considerate passenger on public transport. Now this could be that you were either a) still half asleep (it was morning) or b) being rude on purpose (which I am really hoping you weren’t because that’s just lame) but it could also be that c) you just suck at Train Tetris.

The latter of course is a bit unfortunate because it’s actually not that hard. I mean there we were, three passengers seated along a three person seat (see Train View One). Convenient and comfortable for all until the passenger by the window (thats “Ps”) needed to get off. I was in the middle (“Me”) so that kind of meant that you had to get up first. Which you did. You even moved a step back so that the next person could move into the aisle. But then you stopped.

Now here is where the not so tricky but apparently challenging for you part was.  I did not want to get off the train. I wanted to sit back down but the person after me wanted to move out of the carriage. So with you stuck like a grumpy gnome smack bang in the middle of the aisle at the end of the seat, I couldn’t move in the opposite direction of the nearest exit allowing the passenger behind me easy passage. When I moved aside in the only other direction available so that the window seat passenger could exit the row however, I was now effectively blocking them from getting off the train.

Had you displayed even the slightest inkling of awareness or forethought and moved a step further back when you first moved into the aisle or even when you noticed the predicament you left us in (assuming of course that you are not a complete idiot), it would have been appreciated. As it was, the window seat passenger was left to squeeze past me whilst you remained unmolested by other passengers (in that way forced proximity seems to engender in public transport) and happy as a pig in mud.

I am currently enjoying the very un-grown up attitude of hoping that when you least expect it, a fellow passenger squeezes past you and sticks their butt in your face on the way through.

Cordially yours,

A Slightly More Mindful Passenger

Week 61


Dear Genevieve,

You learned to walk this month. We have seen you wanting to get that skill under your belt for a little while but you finally decided now is the time. Your dad went to pick you up at Kindy one Monday afternoon and when you noticed him standing in the doorway, you just picked yourself up and toddled right on over to say hi. Just like it was any other day. He was pretty surprised. After that, it took you a couple more days before you stopped favouring crawling as either the fastest or most convenient mode of travel. Or perhaps that was the safest. Getting your centre of gravity sorted takes effort (and slopes and uneven terrain still pose a challenge to you).


Now however, you are all sorted. Still very much a toddler and not quite a walker but you are off. Quietly. Some kids seem to herald their arrival by either a lot of chatter or by doing a one man band version of a herd of elephants. You can pick up some speed when you put your mind to it but you manage it silently. Your dad took you op-shopping the other day and said several times he had only taken eyes off you long enough to look in the opposite direction but then when he looked back – you were gone. His heads up as to your location was usually a surprised exclamation by another adult. Because whilst you disappear with nothing but a whisper, you arrive in the same manner which can be somewhat startling if you don’t expect it. Well that and the fact that you stare. That can be slightly off-putting too. We find it amusing because you are just curious but some big people don’t get that.


Everyone seems to think you’re cute though. And well-behaved or perhaps well adjusted for your age. Your father and I go between secretly being quite proud of you and actively practicing judicious baby wrangling. Like at the wedding. We took you to a wedding at the beginning of the year. It involved some car travel in the day but the event was in the late afternoon and the reception in the evening so we hoped for some sleep in there somewhere. Apparently you never got the memo. You went down for a morning nap just fine. You woke sometime after 11am which was not a problem. The issue was that you didn’t go back to sleep until 11:50pm that night! That was a long day.

Your father and I managed it the only way we knew how. Lots of distractions. We gave you sunglasses, smart phones, food, relatives, bottles, cuddles and when all else failed, a change of scenery. Towards the end of the evening you were just so frustrated that your little body couldn’t relax that you needed to go outside and vent. You didn’t want to be held but would hold your arms out in front of you with all your muscles tensed and yell. Then you would crawl or support yourself on available furniture while you moved somewhere else and repeated the process. Most people didn’t see your moments of crazy though or the fact that Karl and I were tag-teaming from dinner onwards and would say wow-she is doing really well!


But despite the fact that you did have a couple of less than endearing moments that day, you never got to the complete meltdown point which was awesome. Your father and I love that we can take you out and include you in these sorts of events. We love that you are so happy in public and that you enjoy all the adult attention. You are so expressive and its really a delight to watch. I’m not sure whether you just mimic the exaggeration that you see in your father and in me on a day to day basis but some of your mannerisms are hilarious.


For instance, you have discovered the fan recently. Or more precisely, you have discovered that you can make the fan go. You can transition from calm to breezy with the press of a switch, eyebrows as high as they can go, eyes wide as saucers, jaw dropping for the biggest “o” you can manage and then the smile that says this is so cool. Your animation is gorgeous. You should be like this all the time. Especially teeth cleaning time, because that’s usually when you clamp your mouth shut and refuse to allow us access.

On the other hand, you may refuse to actively participate as you secretly enjoy watching your parents make idiots of themselves. Especially as we sing you a song every time we brush your teeth. Its not much of a song I’ll admit as it pretty much consists of “you brush your teeth” and a lot of “ch-ch, ch-ch…ch ch-ch-ch ch” but the inanity occasionally stuns you into submission. The rest of the time you are just down right uncooperative. But for all that, we still love you to pieces. My darling little girl, you light up our lives.


Alles Liebe,