Good Carrots

February. This Thursday, the day after tomorrow, is Harper's first birthday. Sweeney's cuzzy-bro is about to turn one. In the words of a great writer I know and am related to, he's so nice. He's been a bit off-colour this week, but we're hoping he'll perk up by Thursday.

In honour of the great event, Mum and Dad, Harper's Nana and Grandad, are up here with us. Dad helped me get the broken-down washing machine to the tip today - brilliant. He also fixed Sweeney's tricycle and put up some hooks for the brooms and made me clear out a whole lot of garbage that I've been hanging onto from the front room. He enlisted Sweeney as his offsider while I made dinner.

He even took Sweeney for a walk to the dairy tonight when I wanted ten seconds to myself to do something vital like read my horoscope or paint my toenails.

Sweeney's reached an age where you can rev him up to ecstatic states by telling him over and over that Nana and Grandad are coming soon, or that we're about to visit Grandad O'Neill, or that we're actually going into this dairy to buy an iceblock. It's nice that he likes these people, sure, but it's exciting that he's looking forward to things now, that he can remember good times well enough to anticipate repeat performances. He left preschool today without any argument because we were off to the airport to pick Nana up. When we left her and Harper and Joe, he was okay with it because we'd be seeing Grandad when we got home.

They're good carrots, those people.