He has yet to figure out coasting, but...

Amiri has been asking for a scooter for a while now.  "The one with Toy Story on it, Mama!"  So this weekend we got him one.  He had to settle for Thomas the Train, though.  He seemed to be OK with it.  Here he is after only five minutes of practice.

The view from inside the sno-cat in the Antarctic enclosure

A proper high tea

Here is what a proper British high tea looks like.

On the bottom it's a meat pie, a spinach pie, and a tomato pie.  In the middle there are salmon-and-cream-cheese, chicken, and cucumber sandwiches.  On the top there's... oh, I've forgotten exactly, but I think it was a lemon madeleine, a chocolate brownie, a lemon tart, a date cake, and a strawberry tart with cream.  Plus any kind of tea you like, in a fancy loose-leaf filter apparatus and plenty of fresh cream and sugar.

I fully endorse high tea as the absolutely most civilised way to press 'pause' on an otherwise hectic day.
 

Emergency extrication

We went out for an adventure today -- just another rainy-day trip to Underwater World-- and afterward had a few minutes to wait at the bus stop.  The boys sat nicely on the bench, but before long Arram got agitated and started yelling, 'Help, Mama!  Help, Mama!'

What was the problem?   The metal bus stop bench had little holes drilled in it.  They were just the right size to stick two-year-old fingers into.  And, two-year-old fingers being chubby little things, to resist letting them being pulled out again.  Arram had been ensnared by his curiosity and was dancing about and hollering his concern.

In a caring and empathetic response which will surely be Item #1 on my Mother of the Year nomination form, I managed to stop giggling long enough to aim the camera under the bench to snap a photo.

Then I got to work extricating him-- the bus was due to arrive in three minutes so this was definitely a McGyver situation.  I assessed the likely tools in my backpack:  water bottle, baby wipes, and lip balm.  Those should work, right?  I hope!  Amiri helpfully reminded me that we can always call a fire truck to come and help. 

A little splash of water was all it took to release the hole's grip on Arram's finger, and we were able to catch the bus as planned, none of us any worse for wear.  But, I think Amiri was disappointed that the fire truck wouldn't be needed after all.
 

Now boys, please keep the entropy under control

The audience poll reveals that the SSS-blog is instant therapy.  Well, that's it, you've egged me on, now you're going to get it!

Oh yes, here is one of my all-time favorite photos in the world.  This is from Osman and Noor's wedding back in December.  I have that 'Mom' look on my face; if I recall correctly I was reminding them to listen to Mama and to not act like tiny tornadoes.  I love how they've gotten down too to listen carefully.  My babies.

Where is Old Zealand?

This question occurred to me the other day.  I know where the old York is, where old Mexico is, and Old England...

The first Westerner to discover our landmass was a Dutch man by the name of Abel Tasman.  Much like Columbus thinking that the Caribbean islands were India, Tasman thought that he was visiting a part of what is now Argentina that already happened to belong to Holland.  But later, when the Dutch government realised that he had indeed been in a new territory, they named it Nova Zeeland after the westernmost Dutch province.
 

Pre-naptime fun

He did it!

Arram tends to be timid in unfamiliar situations.  He has a hard time trying new things because he gets intimidated.  He needs extra time to warm up.  At the park, this means that he likes to sit on the seesaw and be passively bounced.  He'll acquiesce to sit on a swing but refuse even the gentlest of pushes-- I'm happy just dangling, thankyouverymuch. 

But he turned over a new leaf this weekend!  I swung him and he liked it.  He asked to go on the merry-go-round and begged to be spun faster.  He didn't even ask for Mama's help to clamber around on the giant frog.  And for the most impressive bit, just watch this.  I was so proud of him I could have popped.

The fluffy

As a long-time aficionado of restaurants' secret menus (grilled cheese animal style, amirite??), I have been inordinately pleased to learn that every cafe in New Zealand has a secret menu.  First off, you can grab any variety of toastie for a few bucks anywhere you want, even if they don't advertise it.  But today, we're here to talk about fancy fluffies.

As I've previously mentioned, all cafes have a deluxe espresso machine with milk-frothing attachment for satisfying the nation's addiction to beautiful cappuccinos, flat whites, and lattes.  A fluffy is just some nice hot frothed milk, minus the coffee.  They're half-sized and given away for free (or nearly-so) along with another purchase.  Fluffies' sole purpose of existence, I believe, is to act as 'something to occupy the children for a few minutes while the mums finally get to have a quiet chat'. 

After an outing to the park today a friend and I utilised them for just such a purpose.  And these were some fancy fluffies, let me tell you!  Milky on the bottom, airy on the top, and sprinkled with chocolate powder, they were served in tiny ceramic espresso mugs on saucers with little plastic spoons and tiny cookies on the side.  The brothers were beyond delighted to be having a boy-sized drink in a fancy cup just like Mama's.  I think I've just set the stage for them developing a coffee habit in their later years.

It really was only a matter of time.

Check the comments here.  Saimi Auntie for the win!

A tragic obituary

Shrek the sheep has died.  The CNN article.  The Stuff article.

Memorable quotes include:

"...found living in a cave after six years on the loose... with 27 kilograms of fleece."

"...shorn on live television on an iceberg floating off the coast of Dunedin."

"His memorial service is slated for later this week at the Church of the Good Shepherd in Tekapo."

This is so New Zealand.

 

Parnell and the Museum

What a big adventure we had this Queen's Birthday weekend.  First we got on the bus (collapsing and stowing the stroller in the luggage compartment), and went to Parnell Road.  We started at the west end and walked all the way to the east end, a whole kilometer of window shopping in the boutiques and cafes and peeping into the historic homes (note: clicking that link will download a PDF).  And get this: Arram walked the whole way.

And then we arrived at the Museum.  Got ourselves checked in and the official Entry Stickers placed on our shirts.  Took care of the essentials (potty, snacks and drinks), and then headed upstairs although the elevator situation was a comedy of errors amusing only in retrospect.  To the ...drumroll... Dinosaur Room!  Wow.

I have a new phone that I used to take these photos.  I obviously don't have all the settings figured out yet since I couldn't manage to take a single decent photo of our wiggly little boys, but hopefully these will give the impression of the happy and duly impressed little guys next to the articulated skeletons and fossilised displays.  Inspired, Arram played Dinosaur all night complete with sound effects and Dino Claws (tm).

New Zealand being a bird-based ecosystem, there were also bird exhibits.

And then OH MY BARF I saw like eight kinds of wetas.

 

And then we spent like fifty bucks (!) at the cafe on one adult and two kids' fish and chips (it's OK, the museum entry was free so it all worked out), and the bus back to home picked us up right in front of the building so no more long walking.  Later, after naps and because they'd been good, Daddy surprised the brothers with cute little knitted frog and tuatara finger puppets that he'd sneakily bought in the gift shop.

 

I found the CUTEST video on the camera the other day.

I love my three guys so much.
 

The face of a boy who's about to be given an ice cream cone