Sorry for the lapse in blogging, but two weeks in and life's developed a sort of ennui and there hasn't been much to report. Went to Northcote 8 festival on Sunday (as Father Bob said on Triple J, the sun comes out and every bugger decides to hold a festival) - it was ok, but nothing that exciting to rouse me from a decent kip.
To break the routine of eating and poo'ing, I've decided to start training for the Toddlerympics in Wagga 2010... I'm kind of hoping Mum'll put me on a special diet, 'cos the milk thing is starting to become monotonous. I've obviously entered all events, but I reckon my best chances of medals will be in the Under 6kg Unsynchronized Leg Kicks (both Intensity and Endurance events), the Musicless Random Flailing of Arms, and the boxing of course - Mum says I'm a little Barry Hall, although I prefer comparisons with Barry McGuigan, the Clones Cyclone. Caught Dad a beaut in the eye the other morning - it'd've floored a lesser man, were it not for the fact he was already lying down - and Mum's boobs are excellent pummel-bags. Auntie E just sent me a Paddington Bear, so I'll practice some of my wrestling moves on him too.
Right, back to the ring... Dad keeps on looking out anxiously for post - something about a supply and demand problem and consignment of Bambo nappies being due for delivery. While I'm a bit more relaxed about the whole bottom thing, I do agree that the other 'market leader' nappies he's been wrapping me in of late are shit-house.
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