Sunday, August 10, 2008

I work in a glam neighbourhood pt 2

Forget about sparkling harbour views, when I pulled into the company car park this morning the view from my windscreen was far, far more interesting.

One young guy, pinned to the ground by 2 police officers. Young guy wriggled free and tried to jump over a cyclone wire fence and into the dirty canal behind it. The police gave chase - caught him and pinned him to the ground once again. After removing his shoes, they body searched him and threw him into a paddy wagon.

Love a bit of downtown Marrickville action.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Dis......and dat

The dawning of Ivy's 14 month in the world sees me and Ed living with (to paraphrase the great Cliff Richard) a walking, talking living doll.

The little bird took her first steps a few weeks ago and each day is consolidating her lurching about the house skills more and more. It’s a little unnerving having what looks like a tiny Frankenstein swaying awkwardly across the room, arms outstretched but the big, big smile she has confirms just how proud she is of herself. In case her audience needs further convincing upon completing her walk – she usually likes to give herself a round of applause.

As for talking, it seems to have arrived with pointing. No longer happy just to look at her surroundings, Ivy likes to whip out her index finger, point at something random (such as a door frame) and declare in an authoritative tone “dat”. At which she looks at me like she expects an answer. I declare something inane like “yes” or “hmmmm” and then when she is satisfied with my response she then moves on to something new like a piece of paper on the floor with another point followed by another deeply intoned “dat”. This can go on for quite some time.

Of course it’s not always about ‘dat’, things that she can reach out and touch are often referred to as ‘dis’. In fact words pronounced with a “d” are a favourite – which is what I’m trying to convince myself, as her most favourite word in the world is “Da Dee” (Daddy). All day all night she likes to talk about Da Dee. She points at photos of Ed, her face lights up and she says “Da Dee”. She wanders around the house chanting “Da Dee”, in the mornings I can hear her lying in her cot chanting to herself “Da Dee” in every intonation possible. To try and even things up I point at my self and say “mummy” or “Mama” but she just looks at me like I’m a fool and then says “Dis”.

So I have had had to resign myself that at the moment it’s just all about daddy, daddy, daddy. My only consolation was what I took her to the doctors recently; while we were waiting to go in she was looking at a picture of a green tree frog. When I asked her what it was her face lit up, she pointed and said “Da Dee.” Not so special afterall Eddy.