Month: June 2009

The world according to a 3.5 year old

Dinner time:

After expressing disappointment that dinner is not plain noonoos or rice through vomiting sounds and a brief collapse on the floor.

Notice that two bigger brothers, mother, father and grandmother all have proper knives – proper steak knives with black handles and sharp blades.
Very sharp blades.
Demand similar knife.
Have meltdown when not allowed said cutting implement due to how sharp they are.
Negotiation.
Gets knife.
(Ed: shut up, there was negotiation. I’m desperate to get this kid to eat OK.)
Puts knife in mouth.
Gives three adults at table simultaneous heart attacks.
Have meltdown due to surprise from three adults sucking all oxygen from the room and sort-of-yelling at me.
Give appearance of listening dutifully to mother as she explains all calm-like about how those little grooves are very sharp and would cut me very easily and that being cut with a knife is very owie.
Hear something about mother not wanting to spend another night at hospital with an injured child.
Also something about how me getting hurt would make parents very sad.
Eat some more air and leave table.
The following afternoon:
Notice that mother is busy preparing dinner.
See one of those knives from dinner last night on the kitchen bench.
Procur knife in stealth like motion that successfully avoids detection by mother.
Jam knife into apple I’ve been pretending to eat (because Grover had it and therefore I had to have it, even though I don’t want it/like it) and see raft of potential uses for this device.
Try cutting apple into pieces while standing up and holding it in one hand and the knife in another.
WELL BUST MY BOILERS THAT HURTS
WAAAAAAAAA WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The world according to a 3.5 year old

Sometimes what you mean and what you say are not the same thing. But that could be because your parents have dirty minds and still laugh at the number 69.
Example:
Mum, come over here and hot me up. You have to stay here for two more minutes to make me hot.
Um, that would be warm you up son.
Example:
Jasper: Mummy, why don’t you wear your jarmies to bed and be in the nude when you go to sleep?
Mummy: I don’t know, it’s just a grown up thing
Daddy: Because last night Mummy and Dad…
Mummy: MOVING ON
Jasper: Tonight when I go to bed I’m going to go up to your woom, clean my giggies (teeth – long story, it was what Grover started calling them a few months back and now we all do), do a wee and then take off my pants and GO TO BED IN THE NUDE just like you. Mwhahahahahahaha
Mummy: OK. But won’t you get cold?
Jasper: No, becawse I’ll have you to warm me up.
(Mother takes quick moment to appreciate correct temperature related word in this situation)
Daddy: But only grow-ups sleep in the nude, you’ve got to sleep in your jammies to keep you warm!
Jasper: When I’m a grown up I’m going to sleep in the nude with mummy.
(OH MY)
Daddy: When you’re a grown up you’ll be sleeping in your own bed in your own house with your own wife or husband.
(OHHH MY)
Jasper: NOOOO, I’ll be living with u two and sleeping in ooorrr bed.
*****
I love rice* and noo noos** (pasta) and toast*** and pizza****. They are my favorwits.
*****
Maybe I’d like to go to the park today.
*****
The best part of the day is going for a walk in the mornings with Grandmama. “I love dat.”
*****
Discovering lego is both wondrous and infinitely frustrating.
*****
Maybe I’d like … is the phrase of the moment.
* with nothing on it
** with nothing on it – although on occasion he will eat it with a basic tomato sauce on it or with oil and garlic, but even that can sometimes cause meltdowns of catastrophic proportions
*** with butter and vegemite
**** with tomato sauce and cheese. Don’t try to slip some ham on there, he will see it and refuse to eat one more mouthful.

The world according to a 3.5 year old


Wake up

Tell older brother to MOVE from where you want to sit on lounge. Even though there is another entire lounge and indeed other end of said lounge to sit on.
Demand bottle
Announce desire for bweakfast. Ceweal pwease. NO I want toast. With vegemite. And butter. NOT CUT. On a pink plate.
…
…
Pwease
…
…
Take toy, regardless of what it is, off little brother.
Hit little brother when little brother screams in protest at having his toy taken from him.
Claim toy as your own as defence for unprovoked attack on brother.
Have complete meltdown when little brother’s toy is returned to little brother.
Stalk little brother.
Scream some more.
Really scream in that dual pitch scream which makes your mother either cry or pitch a complete fit of her own.
Be sent to room.
Demand Poppity.
Break lego ships of older brother while in bedroom for taking toy off little brother and hitting him when he protested.
Draw on pillow in permanent marker.
Stick stickers on wall.
Draw on wall.
Sneak out of bedroom, out front door and come into house through back door.
Grunt at mother when she comments on your return.
Refuse to wear underpants
Refuse to wear pants mother has chosen for you
Refuse to go and choose pair
Play with penis
Tell everyone to ‘look at my penis’
Over and over
Do a huge fart
Laugh
Tell everyone you did a fart in your bottom
In case they’d missed it

Like idea of going for a walk with Grandmama so get dressed
Refuse to put on socks
Or shoes
Scream about that for a while
Accept gumboots as solution
Happily put on jacket and beanie
Come back from walk
Take toy of little brother claiming it is your favourwit
…
Rinse and repeat for the following 12 hours or so

Sourdough – Part 1

I find a comfort in baking that nothing else provides. Baking bread takes that to a whole new level. Creating sourdough is in its own universe. It’s the organic nature of the process. The fact it takes time. That you have to use your hands. That there are variables you can not control, instead just having to take into account.

Having said that, my breadmaking skills have been a little light on the hit and sledgehammer like on the miss.
This, I have decided, is primarily due to my impatience and that I get a bit panicky – have I kneaded it too long? too little? is that the feeling of my earlobe (a tip once given to me by an old Chinese woman who was an expert at making dumplings)? oh God is it too wet? that seems really dry? is that doubled in size? When did I start that batch?
Sure, they were edible but they weren’t right. Besides, I wanted to be baking bread that I could use for sandwiches and the like, not just fancy foccacia type numbers that were a hit with dinner.
Couple that with my absolute adoration of a decent sourdough and my perpetual state of brokeness and you can see me leaving the land of dried yeast behind.
I found this book called Wild Sourdough and decided to take the plunge.
And you know what? Every single loaf has been fantastic. But it is the process that I find so enjoyable. Renewing my feeder each day, leaving a dough to rise in its own good time, air kneading a dough to a satisfying elasticity. And on and on I could go.
So how do you make sourdough? First you need your starter – a flour, water slurry which you leave to ferment, thus using the natural occurring yeasts in the flour as the rising agent.
That’s it. Yep, it’s that easy. Some tips though:
1. Try and get the best biodynamic/organic/unicorn endorsed flour you can find and/or afford
2. Only use spring water as tap water has flouride and chlorine in it which will kill the natural yeasts.
3. Use ceramic bowls and wooden utensils – avoid anything metallic
Combine equal parts of flour to water (use an electric scale). I started with 100g of flour to 100g of water.
After a couple of days (my rye starter had bubbles the next day, the white flour/spelt flour started took a little longer) there should be bubbles forming – add another round of flour and water and do this for a week. Then your starter is ready to use.
It.really.is.that.simple.
So go – get that underway.

Doogie Allconsumihowser MD

So –

Multiple mobile gallstones. Largest measures 12mm (is that good? what’s the standard for gallstones?).
Fatty liver.
Sub-normally low cholesterol (2.7).
This last fact was in the category of AWESOME for my GP. He was all ‘I’ve never seen someone with cholesterol that low occurring naturally’ and ‘it doesn’t make sense’ and ‘I have no explanation for you on that one’ all with multiple exclamation points and excitement.
Have I told you how much I love our GP – he has a wacky name, is around our age and always gives you the whole picture – explaining why and how and so on.
We had a chuckle about me being a medical mystery.
You see, apparently, if you have gallstones it is pretty much a given you will have a fatty liver and high cholesterol. But somehow, my Jedi mind tricks worked on part of that threesome.
The fatty liver is because I am fat and because I like a drink – it wasn’t too bad and that is probably due to the last six months of me trying to lose weight and the last two years of me not drinking that much, if at all.
Next stop, specialist.
Awesome.