Tennis Balls and Gigglers


A few weeks ago, this little guy had a sleepover at my house.

I call him the Mischievous Munchkin.

The Giggling Giggler.

Tormenting Side Poking Musketeer Number Three, the first and second being Ali the Sidekick and my sister, Anna Goanna.

(On a side poking note, I’ve decided I need to be more firm about people prodding my stomach. In the old days if anyone tried to tickle me, I’d punch their arm hard enough to cork it. Since Musketeer number One and Two have been teaching the Mischievous Munchkin how to side poke like a pro, I’m seriously considering bringing back arm corking.
I’ve grown soft.
It’s time to show people I mean business.)



In the morning, we went down the beach.

The Giggling Giggler had a tennis ball which he enthusiastically bounce off the rocks.

Until one throw went a bit high.


Kate to the ball rescue!


I later wondered if it was worth saving.

Ever tried descending a grass covered cliff?

Fun, fun.


Of course the Munchkin just giggled at my near death experience.

So I chased him.

Ever tried to chase a seven-year-old with a bulky camera?

Fun, fun.


It was a pretty nice morning. The sun was shining, the waves crashing and there were enough clouds to gain my cloud loving approval.


These are the footprints of the Munchkin and I.

Why, oh, why is his foot more than half the size of mine?

I am going to go find a brick to put on his head and stop this ridiculous growth.


Munchkin, you’re not allowed to grow up anymore, okay? You have to stay seven forever and ever.

If you stay seven forever and ever, we can have heaps of sleepovers and throw balls at cliff rocks.

I’ll even let you poke my side once in a while.



xx Trouser Girl

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