Go for Aodh Little Walk

Noah's Week or Part Thereof

Hard at Work

Baby Aodh likes sorting fruit and veg. When he isn't snacking on raw garlic or onion he prefers apples.

I bet I don't have to tell you what this photo means. If you can't guess, you are just going to have to wait until I post a video next time.

He Told Me He Was

O: [again, hysterical screams] He is dead! He is dead! I killed him with my gun.
A: Tavia, he can't be dead.
O: He can, he can, he's mine! And he is bad, a bad guy, a baddy.
A: This dog? This PUPPY?! [incredulous]
O: Yes, he is a baddy and I shot him with my weapon and he's dead.
A: But he can't be a baddy. He's sooooo cute.
O: HE IS! He is.
A: No.
O: Yes.... he.... is!! And, and.... And he is... [suddenly calm and poised] because he told me he was.
A: He told you he was?? This doggy?
O: Yes, he TOLD ME he was bad.
A: Nuh-Uh. Tavia, this dog is a TOY. He can't talk to you!

Why I Don't Have Time to Blog

This is Noah. He was the Quiz Master at the recent Quaker Ultimate Family Quiz night to raise funds (£218) for some great improvements in an area in Bolivia. He has broken his front teeth 4 times in two weeks. If you are the praying type, please pray that this 5th 'tooth' sticks or the dentist is going to make the little guy get a crown. If you are a dentist or an inventor, how about getting in touch with me if you can make a cap that will either stay on permanently or, if removable, go on in the morning and come out at night?
This is Baby Aodh. He is wearing his first topknot. One might be tempted to believe he is trying to be like his Uncle Mikey. Let me set the record straight. His big sister brought some little friends home from nursery school to make a home in his hair. The treatment is like paraffin lamp oil and irritates the eyes so a hairdo is necessary. The writer and social historian in me had so much time today to think about the development of the saying "I had such a lousy day."
This is Octavia. Yesterday she came running into the kitchen in hysterics. "I SWALLOWED IT! A GREEN ROCK FROM MY RED BOX, A GREEN ROCK, A GREEN ROCK!!!!" She was holding her sternum and hunching over. I got her to take a breath because I wasn't exactly sure I was getting it. Had she eaten the thumb-sized Olivine crystal I'd purchased in Assisi while gestating her ? Was the rock big, little, round, sharp? A bit sharp she thought but it wasn't sore. No. She had [probably] eaten a large bead from those she'd used in making my Christmas gift.

I asked her why, why, why had she put it in her mouth? "Because it would keep me alive," came the forlorn response.