Harmony solemnly told me tonight "Mum, I would do anything for you. Even if you were sick and I had to go and get you medicine from a volcano that was erupting in China. I would do it."
Ditto, Bubba. xo
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Honey Boon
I don't cry that often. But last night I cried a good old ugly cry. I lied in bed in the dark and sobbed my little red eyes out over the fact that my new kitchen only has one cupboard in it. (Well... that's what I thought it was about at first. Later I worked out that it was really about how my three kids had been sick all week and all I had wanted to do is watch re-runs of Grey's Anatomy to numb my own pain and get through the claustrophobia of the whole thing, making me a crap-house mother like that one in the UK that let her baby drown while she was playing Farmville.)
So anyway there I was feeling miserable for myself when my two and a half year old pushed my door open with a slam and marched right up next to my bed, took one look at my face and said "Honey boon!" and ran away like a man with a plan. After some banging and crashing in the kitchen, he returned a couple of minutes later with a kilo heavy squeezy jar of honey and a teaspoon. "Honey boon!" he instructed as he handed the goods over. Then it dawned on me.
Last week Clay had had a saw throat. He would cry and come to tell me about it and I would give him some honey on a spoon to help it feel better. When he had discovered me all snotty and teary hiding under my blankets he went to work to fix the problem the best way he knew how.
I squeezed some honey onto the spoon and let it melt in my mouth while he watched with a look of triumph. "Honey boon" turned out to be a pretty good cure after all.
So anyway there I was feeling miserable for myself when my two and a half year old pushed my door open with a slam and marched right up next to my bed, took one look at my face and said "Honey boon!" and ran away like a man with a plan. After some banging and crashing in the kitchen, he returned a couple of minutes later with a kilo heavy squeezy jar of honey and a teaspoon. "Honey boon!" he instructed as he handed the goods over. Then it dawned on me.
Last week Clay had had a saw throat. He would cry and come to tell me about it and I would give him some honey on a spoon to help it feel better. When he had discovered me all snotty and teary hiding under my blankets he went to work to fix the problem the best way he knew how.
I squeezed some honey onto the spoon and let it melt in my mouth while he watched with a look of triumph. "Honey boon" turned out to be a pretty good cure after all.
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