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Thursday, August 9, 2012


"Your daughter has something to tell you," Tracey said to me this evening as I sat down in front of my laptop to check my emails.

"Uh-ha," I mumbled. "What is it, sweetie?" I asked the chattiest of my children while my eyes didn't leave the screen.

"A boy at school was chasing me," said Miss5 excitedly. 

"Uh-ha," I mumbled. Boys chasing my girls is not something new - Miss17 saw to that. "I bet that was fun." 

"He kept trying to lift up my skirt," Miss5 told me.

"What?" I asked, suddenly more attentive. I looked at Tracey. She was looking okay about it so I assumed he's already been dealt with and buried. 

It's not the first time her knickers have been the focus of attention. I was taken back to the beginning of the year when Miss5 was 4 and a boy, the same boy it turns out, was teasing her.

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

No parent likes to hear this, of course. 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.

"A boy was trying to look up my skirt!" repeated Miss5 to me today, bringing me quickly back to the present. "He was trying to look at my undies!" 

This is the trouble with kids these days - they're too pushy. Why can't they just hang out under the stairs like we used to?

"Well you tell him to give you a kiss first," I advised her.

This got a disgusted 'EWWWWWWWW' from Master7. That's kind of what I'm counting on. 

Of course, we'll need a different strategy for high school, but that's a few years away. Maybe a smack to the lips instead of a smack on the lips. Yep, that should cover it. 

This parenting caper is easy. I should write a book :) It'll give me something to throw at them.

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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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