Lamb Aversion Therapy

When it comes to ladders and climbing things Jack is fearless, but when it comes to animals he's more circumspect. Maybe it's a Darwinian thing. He's not sure about sheep. They're okay from a distance, not so good up close. Noel and Diane have a poddy called Tiger that they're raising and Jack patted it on the head last night, which is big progress. Then we all went inside and ate slow roasted lamb.
When it came time for dessert Jack suddenly took off and scooted around the table to Noel and clambered onto his lap. We were all thinking how cute this was till he whipped out Noel's dessert spoon and got stuck into the ice cream punnet which was right in front of Noel. You can't fight that ice cream gene. It comes from both sides of the family.

Pests

We've had problems lately with bandicoots and locusts. The locusts are real (and plentiful) but the bandicooting that's going on is to do with the potato plants in the veggie patch. S is very proud of his plants and had a strictly no bandicooting policy but I managed to talk him round. Bandicooting is when you don't wait to harvest all the spuds at once (because let's face it that's going to be alot of potatoes) but you just dig in and take them as you need them. The first time he did this I baked them in the oven and we ate them with sour cream and spring onions (also from the veggie patch), freshly shelled peas (our own) and a nice sirloin. A very satisfying meal, particularly now we're no longer at the Manor and eating potatoes with every meal.
The locusts however are horrible. We don't really have a problem with them eating everything here (they like green food) but they are everywhere and the car ends up covered in locust guts and legs and other bits and always has that barbecued locust aroma. S told me that I'm supposed to drive slowly through a swarm of locusts so I don't damage the car. This came as a surprise to me. I thought it was my civic duty to drive quickly so I killed as many of the suckers as possible. When they first turned up at out place Jack though they were hilarious as he ran through them causing them to fly all over the place pinging off his forehead. We make our own fun in the country.

Santa

Yesterday we went to see Santa. When I was little I was very scared of Santa (and really who could blame me?) so for a few weeks now I've been talking about Santa in glowing terms and pointing him out to Jack in books and the like. I was hoping that we would avoid my santaphobia. Actually there's probably a proper word for it (not santa claustrophobia). We even took Narelle and the other Jack for moral support and we knew the photographer, the lovely Belinda.
But as soon as we got close to Santa Jack froze and clung on to me. Would not countenance going near Santa, let alone sitting on his lap. What to do? Santa suggested I sit on his lap. Now as you can see he kind of looks like the real deal. His eyebrows were drawn on in white pencil. I figure this is his favourite gig of the year and he's maybe nearly eighty so when he suggested I sit on his knee I was worried about snapping one of his geriatric limbs but he was quite enthusiastic about the idea. Everyone gave me the nod so after he fluffed his beard, I sighed and sat on his knee. Jack had his legs pincered around me like a koala and a freaked out one at that. And no he wasn't trying to advertise the DVD he's holding. Just didn't want to let go of it (I think Peppa's presence reassured him). Once I'd turned him around to face the camera we were set to go. A lot of effort went into getting Jack to smile but that was asking alot. I'm laughing, a nervous kind of laugh because Santa started saying he felt like Clint Eastwood. And my hair is once again insane because I'd spent the previous hour chasing Jack around the library and the park. So we got our first Santa photo and it's a cracker. We had to go and play with the trains on the Thomas table to recover. Maybe next year I'll send S.

The toy library strikes again

Another month has come and gone and Jack's latest items from the toy library had to go back. I was keen to pick this time but I had to try my luck selling my wares at the Jiant Junee Jarage sale (more on that later). So S and Jack headed into Wagga and fortuitously ran into Noel and Diane. The oven and the tractor was returned and they came home with this monster. I think Jack is planning on helping with the harvest this weekend.

Helping out

Ever since Jack helped fix the leak he's been doing all sorts of chores around the house. Cleaning up, sweeping and doing the washing (well someone has to). When S decided to cut back the wisteria he was a willing helper. It was getting a little crowded on that top step. He also dragged the offcuts into the yard for the sheep to eat. And after a job well done he and S both had a reward.

Swimming Lessons

Before the sewing marathon Jack started swimming lessons. We didn't think he'd learn much, just wanted him to have fun and not hate lessons like S and I both did. I hated them so much that I was excited when I got an ear infection and couldn't swim for awhile. I was afraid of being bitten by a blue ringed octopus.
So fun was on the agenda and was mostly what we had. I also had an excellent tricep and bicep workout from hefting Jack out of the water and into the air, which was Jack's favourite trick. Lessons seem to have changed since I was little (you know back in my day) and Jack's involved singing and games. The kids ran along floating rubber mats on the water, collected plastic sea critters, played aquatic basketball and waded through 'seaweed'. The class was a mix of people. There were three well dressed country wives with their suitably named blonde daughters, another Jack always clad in wet and clingy underpants (I hope he was toilet trained), two friendly mums and a very unfriendly mum with her unfriendly mother and her unfriendly child. Brrr.
All the kids reacted differently to the water, some loved it and others cried. Jack had a bet each way depending on his mood and how much sleep he'd had beforehand.
One day I turned up and a Mum remarked that we mustn't have got the memo. Memo? I thought and then realised. All the mums had been replaced by WDCW grazier husbands. And the change in the blonde princesses was amazing. Trying it on? Big time. Tantrums and tears and the Dad's looked exhausted. Then they got competitive. One's daughter put her head under water, so another had to dunk his daughter. To say she was surprised was an understatement. And so it went on, with the little blonde princesses looking increasingly more startled by the second.
The other Jack was always accompanied by his father, a most unfortunate man who always referred to our Jack as 'that little girl'. Finally I could bear it no longer and I told him Jack was a boy. He told me that he had the same problem, but wouldn't that make you more circumspect about making that mistake? Then the week after he called Jack a little girl again. Sigh.
So after five weeks Jack finished. He can't swim as such but he can do the monkey and the crocodile and likes going to the pool. Success.

Oh Christmas tree

Today Jack and I purchased a Christmas tree. Not one of those lovely, resiny ones but a horrible, plasticky one with a built in fibre optic light show. It is fabulous. Especially now that I've added the Christmas ornaments that Garn gave me. Some are cool, some tacky and some bizarre. Crocheted snowflake anyone? But I think along with tinsel and other tree trimming essentials it looks great. I feel festive already. When I was in retail this was a season I dreaded. That fake smile really got a workout. Now I'm hoping that Jack has a ball. We've already done some craft for presents. I'm sure everyone will be pleased to hear that. And I've got some really kitschy DVDs at the ready. The ones I used to watch when I was little with the weird puppets. Childhood trauma here we come. And we're planning on a photo with Santa any day now (hope he copes better than I did).
And the tree? Well apart from the danger of him destroying it, it's a big hit. Particularly Garn's duck and pig ornaments (you don't see those everyday) which he points at and alternates between saying guck!guck! and oinking. I have told him the tree is just for looking, not touching so he blew on it. Oh yes, the pinging noise (jingle bells!) is Jack's head connecting with the book case. He's fine. Not sure if the duck will survive the season though. And how to achieve the authentic Christmas tree smell? S suggested I cut some branches off the pine trees outside and hide them around the base of the fabulous fake. That was refreshing in itself - I thought he was going to suggest one of those pine tree car deodorisers.