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Saturday, March 3, 2012


Master20 popped home for a flying visit last night. Always exciting when the big man drops in for hugs and this was no exception, with the grannies coming from all over town to say hi.

He's moved house and got a new job and started uni for the year - so there was heaps to talk about.

Whole conversation was briefly railroaded by Miss4 though when she told us a little story from prep.

"A boy was laughing at me yesterday," Miss4 announced at dinner. She didn't look happy about it.

No parent likes to hear this. Your first thought is always to bay for blood. Telling the commando inside of me to stand down until I had all the facts I asked my young daughter why this boy was laughing at her.

"Well,' she began, and stood up. This was to be an animated explanation. "They read my name out on parade on a piece of paper and then I stood up and called out my name to them," she showed us how, even demonstrating exactly how she was standing and how loudly she called out. The details surrounding why her name was on a piece of paper and why she had to call her name back are still a bit hazy, "I went up the steps, like this, and THEN MY SKIRT FELL OFF," she finished, indicating that it had fallen all the way to her ankles.

"In front of everyone?" I asked, torn between being horrified and laughing.

"Yes," Miss4 assured me.

"And then what happened?"

"And then I went Ta-daa!" As you do.

I think I'll be letting the boy from school off the hook for laughing cause we're still chuckling about it ourselves.

Having your pants fall to your ankles in front of a crowd isn't without precedent in the Devereaux household. My father lost his pants in the church at our wedding. It's clearly genetic. Belts are popular with this family.

Master20 headed back to Brisbane this morning on the train and we're already missing the big fella and looking forward to his next visit.

Master20 towers over the girls.
Nearly as tall as his grandparents on his knees.

1 comment:

Kez said...

Damn, when my shorts fell off in front of my neighbours the other week (post pregnancy body unawareness you could say) I should have shouted, "Ta-daa!"

About Me

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Bruce Devereaux is one of the nicest people he knows. When not at work he enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies.


His career, and if we used the term any more loosely an e might fall out, has included a gardener, a personal lender, a console operator, a stop/go man (not as big a bludge as you might think but great if you’re into sunburn, abuse and varicose veins), a cleaner of banks and pubs and, for a very brief period, a door to door salesman (until the last door he knocked on was answered by a very scary woman with tremendously hairy legs).


Bruce Devereaux currently works as a forty-five-year-old award winning customer service officer (glass statuette available upon request) for the Bank of Queensland and as a very casual employee for Corrective Services. He likes to believe he excels at both but then he has always been prone to exaggeration.


His favourite colour is green, with a picture of Dame Nellie Melba on one side and General Sir John Monash on the other. His favourite flower is self-raising.

 If you see him around town, call his wife immediately - he's probably snuck out and left her alone with all the kids.


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