Wet curls

Look at how our big boy's curls transform into springy little ringlets when his hair is wet.   Bathtime fun!

The call of the Red-Throated Ringtone

Today while walking outdoors in the suburbs, my phone let me know that I had a new text message.  Brrrrr-tink!  My phone was all the way in my backpack; ehhh, I'll let it go a few minutes, I thought, until I arrive at my destination.

Then, Brrrrr-tink!  Brrrrr-tink!  Brrrrr-tink!  Well, it must be something important if I'm getting four in a row...  So I wrestled open my backpack, scrabbled around for a while in the middle of the sidewalk, and finally fished the phone out.

The phone which had no new texts.

I pondered this paradox, staring dumbly at the phone.   Inexplicably outsmarted by technology.  Again.

And then I got another text.  Brrrrr-tink!  Curiously, my phone stayed quiet and dark.  And even more curiously, the sound came from the nearby tree. 

I looked and looked, but I couldn't find the culprit, even though he called several more times.  I wonder if that is his usual call or if he's a mimic.

Arram tests out the new torch

so that he can check for monsters under the bed.   In a few years.

 

But what are they really like?

I've written often on the topic of 'what New Zealanders are like'.  But I got to wondering, what do New Zealanders think of Americans?

So I put this question to some work mates during lunch.  They exchanged glances and grinned-- I could tell they had some answers ready and waiting!  Their interactions with Americans have primarily been with tourists, on NZ soil, so it should be noted that their opinions largely reflect the way that relatively affluent Americans behave while on vacation.

Before revealing anything, though, they made certain to assure me that I wasn't the 'typical American' and that none of these things applied to me, personally.  Thanks guys, that's nice of you and I won't get offended, now make with the stereotypes...


---Americans are loud.  They are much more inclined to shout or to bellow laughter.  Even in a 'normal' tone of voice, Americans' voices are tens of decibels louder than they need to be, and carry for long distances.

Personal reflection:  Do the Kiwis have a point?  Yes.  This is true!  Early on, I noticed that I was much louder in meetings or on the phone than anyone around me.  I have made a effort to keep my voice down.  My office mate nicely acknowledged that my volume has indeed become more pleasant in recent months.  Funny, I never would have thought of myself as 'loud'...  (Arram, though... that noisy little kid is CLEARLY an American!)

---Americans are crass.  They'll discuss bodily functions or reveal sensitive personal information anywhere, any time, and they don't really care who hears.

Also true.  The last time I was out on the sidewalk doing errands, I overheard a young guy telling his buddy about last night's conquest, in great detail.  I realised that I hadn't randomly overheard that kind of talk in a while, and then I realised that the guys were Americans.  But as a counterpoint, I think it's rather odd that NZers would consider American conversations as crass, whilst Americans see the commonly-accepted level of nudity and cursing on NZ TV as scandalous. 

---Americans aren't capable of having fun without it being scheduled.  They can't just find themselves in a situation and find a way to enjoy it.  This is why 'vacation packages' and tour guides are so popular with Americans.  It gives them a structure and a-plan-for-fun, within which they are able to let loose a little and enjoy themselves.

Although I don't think I agree that this is widespread enough to generalise to all Americans, this one actually provoked a little introspection on my part.  Now that you mention it, I DO tend to feel a little guilty unless I'm being 'productive', and I DO tend to schedule Fun, rather than being fully engaged in the little moments that arise organically.  So I'll watch that.  Thanks, NZ, for the psychotherapy!

---Americans wear track suits and runners everywhere.

It's probably just confirmation bias that I'm noticing this everywhere now that I've thought of it, but yes, it does seem to be the case that most of the examples of sweatpants and athletic shoes I've seen outside of a exercise scenario have been worn by Americans.

Evidence of Motherhood

While at work:

Opening your laptop bag, and a toy falls out.

Whatever your wardrobe, having at least one spot of dried drool, milk, snot, or food on it.

Mixed in with your TPS reports are kids' pictures.

Finding remnants of your son's sticky peanut butter goodbye kiss on your cheek.

Did you know that citrus trees grow here?

Look! Pukekos!

One of the charming local birds is the pukeko*.  It's a mostly-flightless bird with lots of personality.  I say mostly-flightless because they're kind of like chickens... they CAN fly, but they don't do it well and can't go very far.  Fifty years ago, they were nearly endangered, but have made a great comeback.  Now they live all over in the bush, and venture into the suburbs as well.  They like to take up residence in backyards that have apple trees:  eating the apples on the ground during the day and roosting in the trees at night.  And noisily chasing each other.  They're fun. 

I saw a family of them gallivanting around in the field by work.  I scurried over to the fence to watch them cavort and to take photos with my phone.  One of my coworkers laughed and laughed that I would be so amused by something so simple.  Like a tourist.

I managed to take the world's worst photo of one of the little fellas.  It's so bad it looks like an expressionist painting, with no photoshop needed.  Ha.  But at least you can see his red head, blue/black body, white rump, and spindly legs.

A power company here has a commercial with pukekos and I LOVE it.



*POO-kih-ko

Happy Father's Day!

You're all thinking, 'What?  She's confused... Father's Day was months ago!'

Not here it isn't!  In Australia/New Zealand (maybe other countries too, I don't know), Father's Day is the first Sunday in September, not the third in June.  Mother's Day is the same, though, so go figure.

Amiri made his Daddy a card at school, and on Friday they had a Father's Breakfast during drop-off time complete with scones that the children made themselves.  Amiri and Arram also signed a card for their Daddy at home-- Amiri only needed help with the R, while Arram eschewed the oppression of script altogether and gleefully scribbled across the Hallmark poetry.

An earthquake but don't worry

If you're watching the news or on CNN you've probably seen that there was a 7.0 earthquake in Christchurch. 

That's far away from us and on the South Island.  We didn't even feel it here.  And there's no tsunami.  We're safe.

The local news is showing pictures of a lot of crumbled brick in the street.   Apparently one or two below-code buildings collapsed.  Authorities are urging people to take precautions, like conserving water, and are checking to make sure that city utilities are still OK.

But there are no reports of injuries, and it appears that 99.9% of the damage was just cosmetic-- broken crockery and the like.  The precautions are just that, precautions.

People were frightened at the time, of course, since it came in the early morning and startled most people awake.  But now people seem to be dealing with it in the usual matter-of-fact Kiwi way.  Earthquakes happen here; it's not their first time at the dance.  Regular life is proceeding along its normal way, and people have gone out to pick up debris as part of their Saturday morning chores.   They'll replace their cracked crockery and everything will go back to normal.

Arcs galore

I have never in my life seen so many rainbows as I have in Auckland!  Maybe it's because it rains so often here.  My favorites are ones like these, where they're a full 180 degrees.  And then the BEST is when you can see where they end.  Where the color extends down all the way and ends right on Fanshawe Street.  Gorgeous.

Baby, go to time out!

I mentioned Arram's Time Out Chair a while back.   Now that he has some capacity for self-reflection, he has to sit by himself for one minute when he misbehaves.  This usually happens a couple of times a day.  As a result, he hasn't bitten me in over a month, and has considerably reduced both the frequency and duration of his whining.  Yay, time out!

Amiri is familiar with the time out procedure, of course, having gone through the process himself.  These days he's quite good at regulating his behaviour and is rarely sent away in disgrace to think about what he's done.

So now he's taken it upon himself to apply this staple of gentle parental discipline to his little brother.

The scene this afternoon:

Arram spots a treat on the counter.  He communicates his interest in the treat by screaming for it.  Seriously, I think the neighbors are alerted to the existence of the treat.

Arram:  *Winds himself up for yet another high-volume round of ear-piercing shrieks*

Dad:  Arram, no whining.  Tell me what you want nicely.

Arram:  *Shrieks like an air siren*

Dad:  Arram!  We don't whine.  Stop yelling so that Daddy can hear what you want.

Amiri, from across the room and self-important:  Arram, listen to Daddy!

Arram:  *Shrieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek*

Amiri:  Baby, go to time out!

Arram:  *Continues bellowing but trots obediently to his time out chair and sits down.*

Amiri:  When you stop whining you can come out.

Arram:  *A few more experimental hollers, then a couple of hiccups, then quiet.*

Amiri:  OK, you can come out.  Come here.

Arram:  *Stands up and goes to his brother.*

Amiri:  Good job stopping crying.  Don't whine any more.   OK?    Now give me a hug.

Arram:  *Nods his head, hugs his brother*

Mom and Dad:  *Exchanging wondering glances while watching this whole interaction*

Amiri:  Now go TELL Daddy what you want.

Arram:  *Returns to kitchen, points at the treat, looks hopefully up at Daddy.*   "Dat.  Dat dat dat?"

Daddy:  You want the banana?  You asked very nicely so you can have it.  Thank you for asking nicely.  Here, you can hold the whole thing and eat it by yourself. 


We don't want to encourage Amiri to get too enthusiastic about meting out the discipline, so we simply acknowledged that he was nice to his brother.  Later that night, though, after the kids went to bed, we were all, "Did you see that??!"  "I KNOW!  I couldn't believe it!   He did it just right!"  "And the best part?  It WORKED!!"

Cornwall Park

This weekend I took the little boys on an outing to Cornwall Park down in Epsom.  First we walked to Britomart and got on the bus.  Amiri was so good at following my directions:  when it was time to get off, he waited for me to get Arram's stroller safely off and to then turn back for him--he didn't jump down onto the street unsupervised.   Then we walked and walked, and waited for our next bus, and did it all again.  The boys got a little fussy on the second bus, so I doled out bits of trail mix one by one to keep them occupied.  While we were on the bus, it started to rain.  HARD.  Uh-oh.

But it was just a cloudburst and was resolved by the time we arrived.  There is an impressive fountain at the entrance of the park.

We proceeded in, past the Saturday morning rugby matches.  The sun came out and it was absolutely beautiful.  I took my jacket off and enjoyed the first t-shirt day of the year.

Amiri enjoyed running through the grass, running back and forth under a stone arch commemorating The Great War, and finishing up the trail mix.

 I really only had to keep track of Amiri; here is what Arram was doing starting from shortly after his snack:

Then we retraced our steps to get home, and since the little guys were hungry we stopped at a cafe for a plate of noodles and some milk tea.  They boys were absolutely wonderful the whole time-- no crying, no tantrums.  The worst thing that happened was that Amiri sat in gum at the bus stop (and that's not so bad!)  After arriving home after all that exercise, Amiri napped for about three hours.

Amiri writes his first word

"Mama, what's your name?"
     "Allison."
But what did Daddy just call you?
     Allie.
Allie is your name too?
     Yes.
How do you spell Allie?
     A-L-L-I-E.

After hearing the spelling, Amiri dashed off to the other room.  Whatever.  Three year olds often dash away unexpectedly.

I'll admit that this little conversation barely even registered for me amongst all the other chatter... I was distracted with something in the kitchen and paying attention to Amiri with only a quarter of my brain. 

Seconds later he dashed back, holding a piece of paper.  "Like this, Mama?"

When I saw what he had, I paid him some BIG attention!

Things the children have stolen from us and hidden away

1. Cell phone.   My phone was missing for two days.  We finally found it by calling it with another phone and listening very carefully for the muffled ringing, which turned out to be coming from the living room cupboard.  Under the kids' towels.  And several of Arram's toys that had also been stashed there.
2. Amiri once stole $20 off the table and hid it in an inaccessible (to adult-size people) corner behind his bed.
3. Keys:  house, car.  They've swiped these many times.  The most recent event resolved after finding them in a shoe. 
4. Amiri apparently used to believe that the TV remote belongs in the laptop bag.
5. A pair of pants.  No, wait, I mean trousers-- 'pants' means underpants.  A pair of trousers.  Depending on the imaginary scenario you subscribe to, they were either accidentally dropped or enthusiastically flung off the balcony.
6. Daddy's watches:  they keep turning up in unexpected corners.  Get ambitious and vacuum under the couch?  Find a watch.  Naturally.
7. Our hearts.  They've stolen our hearts.  Barf, I know, but I couldn't resist...

How I occupy myself while waiting for business meetings to start

I had a meeting for work recently on the 17th floor of a building facing the Harbour (well, except for the other big buildings right in the way).  Here are some views, starting with facing westward and moving eastward.

The building I was in happened to be across the street from the building that the kids were in.   I could look down into Arram's classroom's playground!  Unfortunately the babies weren't outside playing, or I would have probably missed my meeting trying to get a snap of my little guy. 

S

Sorry the picture's so bad... camera phone...

The languages of Oceania

In the US, when you look on the label of supermarket items like toiletries and paper products, you sometimes see Spanish or French on them in addition to English.  Makes sense, it's so that the same product can be sold in Mexico and Canada.

Here, it's even more common to see multiple languages on a label.  The languages I see most often are Indonesian (I think), Arabic script which I presume is Malay, and my favorite because I think the script is so pretty, Thai.


Translations on signs around the city or on websites, though, are more often Pacific in origin.  Te reo Maori is of course the most common.  But I've seen signs with five or six translations.  I can't tell what's what.  My guesses are Cook Island Maori, Niuean, and Tokelauan (since those islands have loose governmental associations with NZ), or Tongan or Samoan since they're relatively nearby.  And then there's Vanuatu, where conveniently they speak English or Bislama (read the sign phonetically.  It's a fun little creole.).

City lights on a wintry night

School picture day

The backstory:

The school told us that the photographer was coming.  So we dressed our boys up in their suits and hoped for cuteness.  Each child was supposed to have an individual sitting with the photographer and Amiri predictably put on the charm and the big smiles.  Arram, however, objected to the whole idea and screamed inconsolably.  So, wisely, his big brother was brought in from the next room.  With his calming influence, our cranky-pants little boy was able to be photographed.

I don't think the tongs provided are big enough for the job

Sightseeing at the fish market--

It's like going to the aquarium except you get to eat it if you want to.

Auckland's regional personalities

Central city:  A place to work, not live.  Except for the immigrants who will put up with renting an apartment.

The south side--  Counties Manukau:  These are the low-socioeconomic, high-crime areas.  Large minority populations.

The east side--Mount Eden, Remuera:  Old money.  Proper.  British influences.

The north side-- Devonport, North Shore City:  Posh, expensive, and newly-built.

The west side--Waitakere, Henderson:  Hippies and bogans.

Bike safety

This bike sat un-locked and un-stolen for 48 hours downtown recently. 

I know it's not a very nice bike.  But it's un-stolen!   On a very busy street!  Over two nights!

Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa. What.

In the toy department.  At Smith & Caughey on Queen Street.  In amongst the hand puppets and other sweet fluffy toys.

The manufacturer calls these "a wonderful collection of beautiful and colourful gollies." (Fifteen pages' worth?  Seriously?) I had to look the term up.  Just what I feared. 

I expected better, New Zealand.  Fail.  Rethink.

Spring cleaning

It was a dreary rainy day today.  We took it as an opportunity to give our apartment a proper cleaning.  The biggest difference came from having the professionals over to shampoo the carpets.  After nine months or so of toddler detritus, the rugs really needed some stain removal.  I learned, after seeing the enormous amount of dry debris they extracted and the gallons of grimy water that it took, that the brushless canister vac that came with our place really doesn't cut it. 

We organised our papers and the closets, did heaps of laundry, and bleached every available surface in the bathrooms.  Amiri's favorite part was helping with the windows.

We are happy about our new bathrobes...

but it is past our bedtime and we are unable to be happy about ANYTHING else.

But I'm slightly OK about this orange.

Ramadan mubarak!

It's been a long day already so just a short post today.  Wishing all a happy day and month.

The little tiny baby monkey and the co-co-die-lo

In keeping with his top animals to feature in our round-the-couch make-believe chasing game, Amiri was recently given some Just Because presents.  The monkey has magnets in its feet and can cling to his shirt.  He holds it sweetly in his arms, and he tells me several times a day, 'Mama, I love my monkey.'

The crocodile SNAPS! at Arram's feet.  Behind Amiri, by the way, is Arram's Time Out chair.  We have recently begun to implement one minute of sanctions for serious infractions.  Last night:  biting Mama.

The best part is I don't have to do any diapers today

Today we mark the event of my making my way around the sun one more time.  An eventful year it's been, too... what with having made my way halfway around the Earth, besides.  It's very odd now that I have an early-spring birthday.  Thanks for the good wishes, everyone.

As for me, I had a nice day being pampered, and got to have a NAP, which any mom-of-two-toddlers will tell you is her fondest desire.  It rained most of the day but then it stopped and there was a beautiful rainbow.  Then the two oldest males in the house ventured out to harvest a pretty cake.

About that cake...  Three layers, with custard and strawberry jelly in between.  Whipped cream frosting and lovely fruits on top.  Just before cutting it, Amiri told me, "Mama, I'm so excited about your birthday!  Your cake is beautiful."  We all ate too much sugar.

It was also a big day for Arram, who officially transitioned from Baby to Little Boy today.   (I'm not sure where we came up with that, that Arram Will be a Little Boy on Mama's Birthday, but it's sure been a much-discussed crowd favorite around here.)

Amiri told anyone who would listen that it was Mama's Birthday, she is 43 today.  Thanks, Amiri, for adding ten fifteen eighteen years to my age.  That's totally believable, right?

By popular demand...

Enjoy the interactions of our little guys as they eat a snack of toast on their new kid-sized table and chairs.

I'm NOT crazy

Last summer, I got sunburned even through my SPF 30 sunscreen.  I know I'm a burny-prone person, but still, I was surprised.  I was lamenting the upcoming summer and my apparently melanin-free skin to my coworkers today.  They gave me some valuable information.

The sun in NZ actually IS stronger than it is in the States! 

The intensity of the sun is measured in the UV index.  The UV index ranges from 0 (night-time) to 20 (laser sun).   Florida beaches have a UV index of about 10-12.  Summertime in northern New Zealand regularly reaches 14-15, even if the temperature is much lower than Daytona.

This happens for three reasons:  the ozone hole is nearby, the Earth's axis and orbit mean that the southern hemisphere is physically nearer the sun during the summer, and (ironically) there is less air pollution here to impede the sun's rays.

With this information, I'll be investing in SPF 45 this year.

Literacy

Arram loves it when we read him picture books.  He stands in front of us with armloads of books, begging for a story.   His favorite is 'Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?' and he excitedly joins in with 'Burr! Burr!' which, of course, is Arram-ese for Bear.

But yesterday we discovered that we aren't the only ones who can read to Arram.  Watch our big boy teaching his brother.

And so let the feasting begin

I had a couple of wonderful meals to celebrate my return to chemosensation.

Last week, we found a food court in one of the towers near our house.  It's described on one website as having 'all the ambiance of eating in a carpark', but it consistently gets five-out-of-five-stars reviews for the quality of the food.   It's a collection of twenty-plus Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Thai, Malaysian, Indonesian and other Asian stalls hawking steam buns, claypot cookery, any number of ugly-to-look-at, scrumptious-to-taste seafood, and everywhere you turn it's rendang this and goreng that.  It's been named the Best Food Court in Auckland.  Why oh why did it take us so long to find this place?

Anyway.  Look at this insanity I picked up at the Sushi Buffet stall upstairs.  $10 for 12 pieces, plus miso soup, condiments, and that crazy-good pink ginger.  You'll see that I am a wimp about the raw fish, but look... they deep-fried a Philadelphia roll.  Seriously, that's about as good as it gets in my book.  And when I saw that they made a nigirisushi out of a prawn twister, well, that's what sold me.

And then later I made a lunch of tapas.  Oh yeah.  On the left we have albonaya beef (I'm sure I've spelled that wrong):  it's a spicy stew of niblets of organic beef in a tomato-based sauce with cumin and saffron.  I mixed the cilantro and lemon zest throughout for an even more complex treat.  On the right are fresh local cockles, steamed open and dressed with a little garlic butter and herbs.  They're chewy little briny bites of happiness.

Nose-blind

Last week, I wrote about our boys getting sick.  They recovered nicely, but as tends to happen, I picked up their germs myself and came down with a nasty sinus infection.  I've now recovered as well with the help of some antibiotics.  I had an interesting experience during my illness, though... temporary anosmia.

Many times I've had trouble smelling things while sick, but this was the first time that I lost my sense of smell completely.  I tested very strong smells like bleach and acetone (as well as Arram's epic diapers, of course), but they didn't register, not even a little.   It was like living inside a deep-frozen wasteland where nothing smells of anything.  Additionally, it was very interesting for me to experience firsthand the old saying that taste is actually mostly smell:  because I lost my sense of smell 100%, I also lost my sense of taste by about 90%. 

I could tell in a very vague way that something was sweet vs. bitter, but I couldn't differentiate, say, mint from watermelon.  I did a taste test on some leftovers:  aside from the texture, I perceived savoury peanut noodles, beef with rice, and vegetable stir-fry as identical (identically bland, that is).  It was so odd. 

The novelty quickly wore off, though, and after several days I was feeling bored with food and craving flavor... any flavor.  I found crunchy textures, such as celery, much more amusing than I had previously, but still.   It's kind of sad when celery is your best option for comfort food.  I guess it was a decent diet aid, since I had no incentive to eat chocolate or any other junk.  I worried, what if it never comes back?  It was rather terrifying to consider a lifetime without chocolate.

Then the next day I realised that I caught a tiny hint of garlic in my dinner--it was incredibly subtle, but it was there.  The day after that, there was a hint of coffee flavor in my coffee.  And after that, I was able to correctly diagnose Arram's need for a diaper change by smell alone (although I really hadn't missed that aroma, lemme tell ya).   Now I'm back to normal, more or less, and grateful for our tasty world.

Our beautiful boys

Well, he DID hear a doctor say they recommend a one-cup serving per day...

Oh, that Arram!  He looooves his mischief.  Yesterday he reached up and grabbed an empty cup off the counter, and threw it down onto the tile floor where it shattered into a billion pieces.  I spent a lively 20 minutes barricading the children out of the kitchen and then sweeping-vacuuming-mopping up the tiny shards.

Here is Arram's contribution to the household's excitement today.

He stole it away from someone who was drinking from it.

The really sad thing in all this was that he picked up a tiny sliver of glass in the bottom of his foot.  I don't think it really hurt, but he sure did holler as we were taking it out and applying a band-aid.

Awwwww.  Poor little guy.

But he's OK.

Arram, how do you say 'milk'?

It was a big day here as Arram walked up to me and politely asked for a diaper change, instead of just hollering.  Hooray for communication.




(Note for those fluent in infant-signing:  Yes, I know that that is not the traditional diaper-change sign.  Amiri invented that sign all by himself when he was Arram's age, and we've continued it.)

Traditional carvings

Woodworking is a common art form here, especially in traditional Maori styles that incorporate the spirals of fern heads, and stylized human forms.  Here are a couple of examples that I see every day.

Rangitoto Island

Rangitoto Island is an icon of Auckland City.  It's a perfect, cylindrical cone out in the gulf, just a 30-minute ferry ride away from the city.   It's a dormant volcano, and about four years ago we hiked to the top of it and peered into the crater.


It's one of the youngest land masses in New Zealand.   Rangitoto's birth was high drama.  700 years ago, Auckland was already a decently large city.  People also lived on the big island at the mouth of the harbour, Motu Tapu.  One day, smoke began to billow out of the ocean, and continued for years.  The eruptions piled up and piled up, until it created an island so big that it crawled up Motu Tapu's shore.  Imagine the shock the inhabitants must have felt!



BTW, the boys are feeling much better.


  

We cover our mouths when we cough

This weekend, both of our little boys were sick and miserable.   Malaise, coughing, low fevers, and all manner of drippiness.  They were both so unhappy, the poor little things.  Cuddling with Mama made it better-- Amiri wanted to be on my lap constantly, and Arram clung to me with his arms and legs like a newborn monkey with his head on my shoulder.  Basically, I was a human hot water bottle for two days.

Toward Sunday evening, they seemed to feel better and perk up a bit, stopping their moaning and even playing together a little.  We got them some fresh fruit juice from the place down the street and they loved it.

Then they got their appetites back and had a lovely dinner of toast and bananas.  Arram signed for milk.  Hopes are high for two healthy little boys tomorrow.

We were walking and we saw a fire truck parked on the street!

The jam slice

Another Kiwi dessert.  It's a thick layer of jam between two layers of dense shortbread-style cake, with a nice strawberry-flavored frosting.  It's kind of like a home-made pop tart, isn't it?  And that's EXACTLY what it tastes like.  Only better.

Funny, I was just writing about 'dichotomous emotional responses' today at work

Here's how Amiri looks at the playground.

Complete joy.

And here's how Arram looks at the playground.

No, I REFUSE to have fun on this slide.

The seesaw burns.  We hates it.

He also hated the swing, hated being held by Mama while SHE sat on the swing, and flat-out refused to even consider the merry-go-round.  

Well, in his defense, it IS hard to have a good time when a giant frog is trying to eat you.

Amiri pulled a 'Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul' moment on me

Amiri and I were cuddled up for our nightly bedtime story/talking.  He likes to talk about how he's a big boy, and Arram is a little boy.  I told him, well, son, you used to be a little boy, do you remember that? 

Yeah.  I was short then.
     Very short.  You were very little.  You wore diapers.
Because I was little.  And I sat in a stroller!
     Yes, you couldn't walk.
What happened before then?
     You were a little baby.  You didn't have any hair.
What happened before then?
     You were brand new, just born.  Tiny and crying, and drinking milk.
What happened before then?
     You were in Mama's tummy.  Before you were born.
Before that? 
     You weren't made yet.
Was I in Mama's head?  (laughing)
     No, you weren't in Mama's head.
(he thought about it for a minute...)
Was I in Mama's heart?
     Yes, Amiri, you were in Mama's heart.

    

Auckland solves our problems

We have very few problems.  And those that we do encounter have a way of getting solved for us.

For instance, we had to walk over a kilometer to get a good burger.  I know!  It took like eight minutes!  Aaaarghhh!!

And then Auckland solved that for us.  Look what opened across the street yesterday.  They're spectacular.  No more journeying for burgers... we don't even have to put on a jacket to run out for these!

And then there was the problem of crossing Hobson Street between our house and school.  We'd have to watch for cars, wait for them to go past, and then bump the stroller down the curb on one side and bump it back up the curb on the other side.  Whew!  The stress, I tell ya...

And Auckland solved that for us too.  Some construction crews turned up last month, and look what we've got now.

Notice the stripey crossing and the round orange signs.  They make cars stop and wait for us.  And also notice the ramped curbs.  I can navigate the stroller across Hobson now with just one hand.

Hey, Auckland?  I have another problem.  I don't have a million dollars and it's quite inconvenient...