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Saturday, September 29, 2012

Blake, the Busybody.

Every gran's grandchild is the grandest.

We moan about our children, but boast about our grandchildren. Or so, I've heard.

Before my daughters were born, I dreamed of a mischievous, ginger son, with a frog in his pocket.

I have been blessed with Blake.

Blake's best cuddly animal, is his Woofie. Before he sleeps, Woofie is suffocated with hugs and kisses.

One night, a dog barked outside. Blake was in his element - Woofie was alive.

Blake likes to help around the house. Everything has a place, and he always parks his bika in the bedroom.

If I ask to speak to Blake, over the 'phone, and say: "Hello Blake," he points to himself. Ditto, if he sees a photo of himself, he points to his face, and smiles and kisses the 'photo.

After using the loo, he uses the brush to clean, scrubbing and laughing.

Misty unpacked a melted cooldrink cup from the dishwasher. Blake threw back his head, held his tummy and laughed.

He was also thrilled to he bones, flicking light switches on and off. He nearly flew out of our arms, giggling.

On one of Blake's memorable visits I heard my hair dryer full throttle, and then feet scuttling down the passage.

Blake was nowhere to be found.

Panic. "Blake, Blake, Blaake, BLAKE," No reply.

I discover a curled-up, giggling bundle under the bed.

Silence. Blake is hanging my jewellery on the door handles.

As a treat, Steven takes Blake to see some real bika's.

Blake went bananas - "Bika's! Bikaa's! Bikaaa's!", and pointed to the posters.

Even the mechanics walked in to witness the commotion.

Steven told me that Blake was offered a beer.

He can tell such porkies sometimes.

Friday, September 28, 2012


After nearly eight years, with no incidents, The Campbells decide to install an alarm.

Misty memorised the code, and nagged Nick to do so.

With Blake's assistance, the eyes were pointed out, and panic buttons stored in a safe place.

Nick confirmed that he now understood.

It had to happen.

The following morning, Nick entered the kitchen, to make a cuppa, and the household, not to mention, the neighbourhood, was awakened.

Pee-Paap. Pee-Paap. Pee-Paap.

Blake skidded into the marital bed, and pulled a pillow over his head.

Misty's mobile rings, with Nick shouting:

"What's the code? What's the damn code?"

"It's 12345, Daddy."

Blake, with minimal mishaps, has now graduated to the loo.

Nick: "Come on my boy, you must go and wee."

Blake enjoys this, saying: "Shake it. Shake it."

Blake's instructions to mommy are to bring Syd and a potty.

As Blake leans over the loo, Syd is seated on the potty.

"Are you finished now, Blake?"

"Yes, Daddy, but please leave Syd. He is busy with a pooh."

Thursday, September 27, 2012

High Fives

Blake is now 18 months old, throws a ball, and kicks it.

Real Madrid must be notified asap.

Nick and Blake also watch WWE Raw, and the fun begins.

Nick swings Blake over his shoulder, throws him up, catches him, and they fall onto the floor.

Nick then leaves the lounge, and Blake runs to his toy box, retrieves a large monkey, and waits for Nick to return.

Blake then pummels the monkey to an inch of its stuffed life, complete with sound effects.

Nick walks away again, and Blake peers down the passage.

He then hugs, kisses and pats the monkey: "There, there."

On Nick's return, the monkey is, once again, flying around the room.

One evening, a very sad Blake said : "Jay-Jay hit me at school today."

No nonsense Nick, was having none of this:

"Come here, my boy. I'll show you how to doesch-doesch."

The following day, the result.

Misty: "How was school today?"

Blake: "Good."

Misty: "Did Jay-Jay doesch you?"

Blake : "Yip."

Misty: "Did you cry?"

Blake : "Noooo!"

Misty: "Did you doesch him back?"

Blake: "Yip."

Misty: "Did you make him cry?"

Blake : "Yip. Two times."

And, up go Blake hands for a high-five.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Connecting with Friends and Family

"Do you have a code for the wee-fee?" ask many as they enter the front door.

Indeed we do and this is free, for up to an hour.

You may 'phone your mom, to say that you are safe, and update your 200 friends on Facebook.

There is also a call box and World Call cards for purchase. No, I do not earn a commission.

I don't know how much it will cost you. Where are you 'phoning? How long will you speak?

"I dunno. A minute, maybe."

Card inserted. Number dialled.

"Yo, mon, it's yo bitch. Whadya mean, which one?"

Next call from the queue.

"Hi Mom. Yes, I'm safe. Where's dad? Please put him on."

Minutes later.

"Oh, hi, Dad. Yes, I am safe. I'm here in Joh'burg, remember. Where's Sal?"

More minutes later.

"In the bathroom? OK. Tell her I say hi. Is Jeremy there? Don't worry, I'll hold.

Even more minutes.

"When, he gets back, tell him I say hi. Is that Rover barking in the background?
Please put him on."

"Hello, Rove, how are you, my big boy? I miss you loads. Woof Woof."

"Oh, hello Sal, what were you doing? That's disgusting!"

"Hello, Helloo, Hellooo."

I am given the evil eye: "Phone calls here are so expensive. I only spoke for a minute."

Ding Dong Dementia

"Helloo," say I, from the gate bell receiver.

No reply.

As I have other things to attend to, I begin cleaning the furthest bedroom.

Ding Dong. Same scenario.

So I march into the garden, and discover six little bored buggers, fingers poised.

"Do that again," I bellow, "And, I will beat you with my broomstick."

Twelve eyes, shot out on stalks.

"It wasn't me, ma'am. It was my brother. I've only just got here," grins the leader of the pack.

Then, a big belly protrudes from around the corner.

Octomom : "You can't shout at my kids. It's against the law."

Silence prevails.

Ding Dong x 3.

Out I go again.

There stands a local bag lady. Sipping from a half jack.

"I have rung this bell three times."

"Yes, I heard."

"I need you to put me up. My husband has been beating me up. My car is broken. I will pay you when I get a job. Why do all the places say they are fully booked? Are you going to leave me out here on the street?"

Then the cops arrive and bundle her into the back of the van. I am cursed to hell.

I unplug the bell.

Later, tapping on the gate.

I plug in the bell. "Hello!"

"Your bell does not work. I am looking for Job."

"Well, let me know when you find him."

And, the bell does work, believe me.

Aah Tishoo

Steven hates Winter. Full Stop.

"Why is it so cold?" he'll moan, on a mild Fall day. "Don't you ever get cold?"

The Afrikaner's say it best - "Fock, dis Koud!" and, "In die Vrystaat, nou dra die manne twee kortbroeke."

And, then it snowed.

I had a call, from someone, still not sure who:

"It's snowing in Sandton." Here, too, in Rhodesfield.

Steven has had enough, and hurtles to Builders Warehouse, and returns, followed by a delivery truck.

Two gentlemen, amid much cussing, erect the largest gas heater I have ever seen, in the sitting room.

It touches the ceiling.

This is an outdoor heater, designed for the daft, who braai in the snow.

(A barbeque in South Africa is a flavour of chips.)

All set up, Steven turns on the heater, and within seconds Terrylin is the devils den.

"Please return that," I beg Steven. "I feel as though I am going through the Change."

Of course, Steven nearly takes the chair with him, as he falls out of it laughing.

Mike and Penny arrived, with Penny having a sneezing fit. All over the guest register, as well.

Penny : "Aah Tishoo!"

Mike : "Bless You."

Penny : "Thank You. Aah Tishoo!"

Penny went to the bathroom, and sneezed three times in succession.

Mike, very concerned, knocked on the door.

"Is that you, Pen?"

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Blake's Bad Day

While Misty was looking for her missing mobile, she found Blake on his bed, ankles crossed.

Still too small to dial, but not to speak.

"Hello, hello, Guppy, are you there?"

"Where's Guppy?" asks Misty.

"Guppy's Gone", sighs Blake.

"Oupa, Oupa, where are you? Your 'phones broken, mommy."

He then puts his palms together: "Let us Pray."

Later, "Golf, Daddy, golf. Please Daddy."

"We can't, my boy. It's raining."

"Well then, just give me a hug."

Misty left to do the groceries, and returned to find a little boy she did not recognise sitting in the garden.

Nick had crew-cut Blake's hair, which resembled a porcupine, and left a pumpkin fritter fringe which was promptly gelled.

Blake was not amused and Misty attempted to rectify the situation. But the slipped scissor, left Blake with a bald patch.

He now resembled Dennis the Menace.

But, Blake's day did get better.

The family discovered a spider ogling them from the curtains.

Not an insy winsy one, but a big, fat hairy one resembling Rasputin. This was the size of Nick's hand according to Blake.

Nick trapped the spider with a bowl, and let it loose in the garden.

I would have smacked it with a spade.

In all the excitement, with Misty and Nick screaming like nervous Idols Contestants, Blake was bouncing about, screaming with laughter.

Wooden Eye

A couple arrived late last night, and settled into the double room, which has an en-suite shower.

They appeared to be satisfied: "This is all we need."

I decided on some 'shut-eye.'

"Hello, hello," I hear, in the distance.

"So, sorry, to wake you up. But, we would prefer to bath."

After having perused the premises, that cannot find one of the three available.

Back to sleep at 2am, after being asked for a 9am wake-up call.

"Hello, hello,"

It is now 5.15.

"Could we Skype and iron a shirt? Where do we do this?"

I thought this had been discussed at 2am.

Back to sleep at 6am. Bad move, as I need to be polite and perky at 7am.

But, even if I could locate matchsticks, these would not keep my eyes open.

Around 7.30, Tim leaves. He calls at 8.

"I left my 'phone behind. I am on my way. Please don't bath or anything. I'll be there now-now."

Around 9am, Tim arrives: "I see you are still in your pyjama."

Also at 9am, I knock on the double room door. No answer. I tap on the window. Still, no answer.


"Please wake us up at 10am. We have arranged to be collected at 11. And, please open the gate to let us out."

Now, why wooden I?"