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Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Brrr

We had no idea how our young son has suffered through this winter.

"Winter sucks. I hate cold," he told me this morning as he undressed and threw on his uniform. The temperatures dropped again on Sunday morning to unreasonable levels it seems.

Personally, I love winter. Mainly to do with sleeping. I love how I need to rug up and wear socks to bed. I love diving under the huge pile of blankets and doonas, so only my head sticks out - and that's in a beanie. I love getting into bed first and working up a nice dutch oven to share with Tracey when she follows me in. You know, the little things.

The kids have it harder than us though because they're in bed by themselves. No thoughtful husband to turn on the gas and warm things up. Ours are forever tossing and turning in bed - they throw their blankets on the floor, freeze and then come into our bed to share the lack of sleep.

But then that's something else I love - when the little kids jump into bed with us. They're so cuddly, aren't they? What's a little lack of sleep compared to having them snuggling into you. And by snuggling I mean kicking, hitting and generally causing pain.

Miss17, when she was Miss3, loved being close to me. Even after she'd wander through the house and jump into bed with me she'd want to get closer. She'd wake up a while later in my bed, sit up, see me and then collapse onto my face. I lost track of how many times I woke up to my nose exploding from her headbutt. I eventually learned to sleep with my arm draped over my forehead as a barrier.

But I'm digressing. The point of all this is Master7 isn't a lover of winter.

"Why don't you like winter?" I asked him. "Is it because you shiver?"

"No," he said.

"Are you upset because you can't get warm?"

"No."

"Cause you have to wear pants?" Master7 loves to wander about the house in a singlet and undies. Yes, we're trailer trash wannabes. But he shook his head - that wasn't it.

"What's the problem then?" I asked. And I have to say, his answer surprised me a little.

"I hate it when my doodle doesn't bounce."

I nodded knowingly. "Me too, mate. Me too," I told him.

Bloody cold weather.





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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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