When people ask us what traits DorkySon has inherited from us – which they often do, it seems to be one of those questions to which parents are expected to have a well-thought out response – it is always a fairly easy answer.
“He gets his energy from me,” says DorkyDad with a hint of pride in his voice. “Lots of energy. And he gets his stubbornness from his mother.”
“Determination,” I always say with a smile. “It’s determination, not stubbornness. It’s a good thing.”
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About this time last year, we welcomed someone new into our lives. He comes with us to the supermarket, to restaurants, and on holiday. He even hops into bed with us most mornings.
His name is Jake, and he is DorkySon’s invisible friend.
Everyone who goes to that park knows that it’s a pirate-ship plank.
Everyone.
Or at least they did until today.
The boys were lined up. Spiderman in front, with DorkySon second, and Lightning McQueen bringing up the rear.
They stood patiently, waiting their turn, assuming their fiercest, most swashbuckling pose, and then launching themselves along the plank, crashing to the sand below with a bellow.
But today there was a problem. Continue reading
It is spring here. I almost feel guilty enjoying it so much, when friends and family back in the UK are posting updates online about the days getting shorter, the mornings getting colder. If I could bundle up some of our Tasmanian spring and send it across to you all, I would.
Last weekend we moved our clocks forward an hour. Not that we needed to – the mornings and the evenings here were already filled with light. The kind of light that makes you run from one window to another, watching it change, holding your breath as the sunbeams catch one cloud, exhaling silently as they shimmer on another.
DorkySon was just lying on the sofa, playing a game on the iPad, while I tidied around him.
“Mummy,” he said. “Dying doesn’t mean that you go away and never come back, does it?”
I froze. Continue reading
Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 