Well, two tests along and New Zealand still hasn't been bowled out yet!
We walked yesterday with Gary — Debbie, Matthew and I — up through the Botanic gardens from Tinakori Rd stopping along the way at the duckpond, where a dog, off his leash presumably, splashed through the pond, sinking in the mud and chasing the ducks, who turned and rounded on him, and quacked good riddance as he clambered back out, muddy wet and shaggy to find his way back to his owners. And then in the far corner of the pond a mother shepherded her ducklings out, a convoy of feathers and down and waddling feet and Matthew laughing delightedly as we turned and walked up to the playground, walking across some rocks in a stream and Matthew looking for lions, sure they aren't there but secretly a little worried. The sound of laughing children came down through the trees before we saw them, a melle of flying foxes and swings and merry-go-rounds and running feet and tears and pure delight at the speed reached down the slide. Lying in the sun, watching Matthew through half-closed eyes, talking disjointedly, and watching with open mouths as the boy ran unheedingly into the path of the flying fox, turning at the last moment so it sped by, unharmed and unaware. And a walk back down again, with Matthew on my shoulders, reaching up high to the leaves and holding for dear life to my hair, and seeing further than me down the path we walked.
Later a cone of vanilla ice cream, white and cold, sitting along the water's edge on Oriental Bay, Matthew close to the edge of the wall, now over it, now standing there as Debbie mouths to me to get him back immediately and I aver that such is what children will do to their mothers. And a ride back in the car, through winding Mt Victoria streets — this is Nana and Grandad's road says Matthew — over the other side of the hill back to Gary's house, although still, for Matthew, on the road of his grandparents. And sleepy three year eyes closing in the back of the car as we went home, a head falling forward, and to the side around each corner, and a warm, sleepy heavy boy carried in my arms up home, cheek against my neck as I hear him breath, and lying him down in bed, tucked in and sleeping the last of the afternoon away.
last | nextLink of the day
Some images of Wellington
Journals and blogs that I read regularly
Raising Hell
Feral Living
Hippycritical
Udder
My Life in 12 Point Font
Journal of a Writing Man
Some Jingle Jangle Morning
The Last Girl Scout
Potatoe.com
Journallife.com
Window to my Soul
Chickybabe
Sorabji.com
Yesterday's Makeup
Fifteen Milliliters
Fly Away
<
#
made by mom
?
>
Registered!
The Ageless Project
«
?
Blogging Mommies
#
»
Photo of tunnel copyright Bernd Klumpp, available from istockphoto.com