SASSY TOWN FOLLIES by Felicity Appleton, no. 12 March 25


My little nephews were over the other day and they taught me a number of very important lessons while they were here. The first is that a pair of reasonably well-built three year-olds can beat me in an arm wrestle – I mean individually, but the pair of them did jump on me on a few occasions with the aim of practising a few wrestling moves they’d picked up from TV. I must admit it was cute. Their enthusiasm is adorable, and their energy, and how they stick to a task so seriously.

They’re good boys, actually, even if they have watched too much wrestling on TV with their dad. Apparently their dad, my brother-in-law Adam, watches wrestling when he’s becoming impatient for the footy season to start and he just needs to see men running into each other. I find that cute too, if a little bit infantile, but then that’s what men are like, isn’t it. My sister Arabella definitely thinks so and says so. She often brings over the boys and I mind them while their parents spend some time alone. On the weekend they were signing documents to finalise the mortgage on an investment property. Another investment property, I should say: Adam owns a few now, so he’s good for more than watching trashy TV with his sons. Actually I like Adam a lot. We get on very well and he’s always pleased to see me. He makes me laugh. He also wears a vintage Rolex, which happens to be very cool. I like Rolexes.

Back to the weekend, and my visit.

The boys are named Fergus and Connor – there’s Irish on Adam’s side apparently – and they are very intelligent little fellows. Already using touchpads on smartphones and computer tablets and devices like that is second nature to them. They can use a new mobile phone if you hand it to them and will find out how to download games pretty much straightaway. I learned this when I left my iPhone on the coffee table as I went into the kitchen to get all of us a nice bowl of ice cream and chocolate topping (which, I hoped, would calm down the wrestling behaviour), and when I got back they were playing some sort of shooting game on it and criticising it for only being an iPhone 4 and having such a slow processor. Harsh, I thought. They’d spent about $45 from my credit card in ten minutes, which is very impressive if you are bringing up your children to be computer hackers or something, but I was a bit miffed.

Worse was they had deleted, permanently, all of my photos. These photos are not backed up anywhere and included a shot of Jennifer Hawkins leaving a coffee shop in the city (I always have my camera ready for opportunities like that) and a photo of the day I met Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of Eat, Pray, Love, who is one of my heroes. I’ll never get those back now. They’re gone.

So I learned that little boys can be violent, the bruises on my weakling arms are evidence of that, and I learned not to take your eyes off them, and I learned to be careful with things of value when they’re around, and I also learned that little boys can be charming, adorable, sweet little people when they kissed their aunty Flick goodbye and thanked me for having them.

Published in: on March 25, 2013 at 7:47 pm  Leave a Comment  

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