HAPPY EVER AFTERPosted: July 15, 2012
It’s really strange to think that when you grow up you won’t remember your Mum and Dad’s wedding, even though you were there.
It’s because of a thing called childhood amnesia, which means that most of us don’t remember anything from before the age of three.
Take it from me, it was the best wedding EVER: happy and beautiful, emotional and exciting, and lots and lots of fun (especially the dancing later on and Andrew’s hilarious MC-ing and the speeches your Grandpa and Uncle Paul made – they brought the house down).
You and your Mum looked absolutely gorgeous and your Dad was handsome with a capital H.
Forest Hill Winery was like something out of a fairy tale – all rolling mists and candlelight and log fires, plus beautiful food and wine.
The only sad note was that you caught the flu two days before and were very sick.
On the upside it meant Nanna had an excuse to pull you into bed with her two nights in a row.
And I must say that all things considered, you were an absolute trooper on the night itself.
During the wedding weekend, you, your Grandpa, your Uncle Paul and I stayed at a very interesting eco cottage in Denmark.
I say interesting because it had a composting toilet, which we knew about, but for some reason we weren’t told it was a five-hour trek from the house.
OK, it was a five-minute trek, but seriously scary at night when the rain was coming down in slabs and your mind naturally drifted to things like killer kangaroos and axe murderers lurking in the forest out the back.
Nanna doesn’t usually condone peeing in the shower but it was either that or borrow one of your nappies.
One of the upsides of this eco heaven was this view of Wilson Inlet from the lounge room.
When we got back to Albany, we did all sorts of stuff, you and I. And it was wonderful.
We stood out on the deck and waved at the herons and pelicans that fly down the valley to Lake Seppings every night.
Then we went into the garden and looked for the moon.
We bounced like kangaroos, played chasey up the passage and shouted at Ella when she kept stealing your ugg boots.
We fed the ducks at Eyre Park.
We proved that an almost-two-year-old can walk along every single window sill inside the house without killing herself so long as her Nanna is there to catch her (God knows how I got myself into that one but, once started, there was no going back. I aged at least 10 years).
We sang Knick-Knack Paddy-Whack approximately 1,013 times.
We put on concerts for Ra-Ra, Puppy, Teddy and the Babies and made sure they ate balanced, nutritious meals.
We changed Ra-Ra’s nappy approximately 1,013 times (“Nanna! Oh no! More poos!”).
I must say that if I’d known when we bought him at K-Mart that Ra-Ra was such a prolific shitter, I probably would’ve passed him by, but hindsight is a fine thing, isn’t it?
It was the longest time you’ve ever stayed on your own with Nanna and Grandpa and it was absolutely the best.
When your Mum and Dad took you home there was really only one word I could use to describe how I felt.