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Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Hello, my name is....


With Tracey having a tooth pulled (while breastfeeding, so very limited painkillers) I was given the afternoon off work to pick up the kiddlettes.

To keep them amused while we raced around town I devised a car game for them: I asked them what name they'd give themselves if they had a chance to choose one.

"Broom!" shouted Master7 without a second thought. Hope he takes a little more time making decisions when he's older.

"You want to be named after the thing mum uses to sweep the floor?" I asked him.

"No. Broom! The sound a car makes." Oh, much better.

"I want to be called Meow," said Miss8. This wasn't going the way I thought it would.

"Like a cat? What about normal names? Alice. Dora. Candice. Amber. Samantha."

I guess I shouldn't be surprised the kids are picking strange names for themselves as we've entertained the kids by giving them, and other members of the family, odd names. Not that we've done it for a few years. It was all a bit Addams Family and lots of fun on long drives in the country.

Here's a list of names we've picked on each other with:

Bruce           Jock Itch
Tracey         Dogs Breath
Master20     Pig Swill
Miss17         Cow Pat
Miss8           Kitty Litter
Master7       Toe Jam

We haven't thought of names for the youngest three yet. We've been remiss, especially as we've names for their grandparents.

Poppy          Wing Nut
Nanny          Shit Tin (Poppy made that one up)
Granddad     Bull Frog
Grandma      Scrub Turkey

My sister once heard us chatting and laughing about these names and desperately wanted to be included.

"Make up names for me and Daryl!" she exclaimed. So we did. Auntie Horse Head and Uncle Tape Worm. She was thrilled. "I don't want to play this awful game anymore," she told us.

And here I was again re-naming my little darlings. Or at least helping them choose names for themselves. For fun. Hey you have your car games, we have ours. Not that this game was going exactly the way I expected.

"Zoe. Angela. Beatrice." I suggested about twenty names before Miss5 interrupted me.

"I want to be called Pop Out Eyeball," she told me. Okay then.

Must be in the genes.

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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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