threelilprincesses.com

Category: Laugh out loud

  • Fur cop! It’s just a cat, Mum

    Fur cop! It’s just a cat, Mum

    Mum, pleeeeeaassee can I have a cat.

    MY MOTHER’S trying to convince this allergy-suffering household it needs to become home to a cat.

    Sounds harder than trying to persuade a three-year-old that no, it’s not chocolate she can smell on my breath (caught again today!).

    However, this is no ordinary cat.

    The ball of fluff she has in mind won’t cause the sniffles, won’t scratch its privates in front of guests and can be turned off when the ‘’new kitten’’ phase wears off.

    It is … Talking Tom Cat, a pet feline with an annoying Smurf-like voice who lives in iPhone land. Yes, some of you may already be aware of what has becomes one of the most popular apps going around.

    Tom not only repeats what you say, but can also be fed milk, KO’d after a decent smack to the head, purrs when patted and ‘’yeows’’ when you pull his tail.

    Princess Ella can’t get enough of him on her Nan’s iPhone, especially bonking him on the noggin.

    Just like some men believe Pamela Anderson is ‘’real’’ (come on, does she have any of her original self left?), Ella believes Tom is also a living being.

    Here’s an actual transcript of one of Ella and Tom’s conversations _

    Ella: Can you stand like a flamingo?

    Tom:  Can you stand like a flamingo?

    Ella: Yes, I can. I’ll show you.

    Tom: Yes, I can. I’ll show you.

    Ella: OK, you go first.

    Tom: You go first.

    Ella: Oh. I’ll go first then.

    Tom: I’ll go first then.

    Ella: How about we do it together?

    Tom: How about we do it together?

    Ella: OK, let’s do it (by this stage her mouth’s too far from the phone for Tom to pick up her voice). See, cat. You stand on one leg. See. You’re not doing it, cat.

    This conversation went on for 45 minutes.

    It then resulted in a slight tantrum when it was time to go home and Tom couldn’t come with us.

    Makes you wonder what on earth they’ll think of next.

    I had real cats (they kept being replaced because they ended up flat on the Riana road) and it wasn’t ‘til I was in late primary school that I got my first taste of a Commodore 64 (that’s a games console kids, not a type of Holden).

    The debate is still going in our household as to whether we download Talking Tom Cat.

    The clincher is that I don’t have an iPhone (poor me), so there could be daily tantrums when the bloke in The Shed has to take Tom to work with him each morning.

    So, how are your kids coming to terms with technology?

    A video of Ella and Tom having a conversation.

  • Happy holidays with kids? You bet

    Happy holidays with kids? You bet

    No Fairy Floss, but fairy face painting instead.

     HOLIDAYS pre-kids used to be different.

    Pre-kids, holidays were about sipping copious amounts of cocktails poolside at resorts or staying in fancy hotels and blowing money at shopping centres like an Aussie P Diddy (without the bling and just one babe on my arm rather than 10 of them).

    With kids, it couldn’t be any more different.

    Nowadays, a holiday destination is chosen on how many parks it has, whether there’s affordable accommodation and if we can arrive without one of the little tackers spewing the contents of their breakfast all over the back seat.

    That doesn’t mean holidays with kids are any less enjoyable – in fact, I’ve discovered quite the opposite.

    Cue: Three weeks holiday.

    The most common question when telling people I was taking leave was: “Where are you going?”

    The answer: “Nowhere”. This was more often than not met with sad, sympathetic looks as if I’d just told them of a death in the family.

    Well, I can tell you, “nowhere” has proved to be one of the best holiday destinations ever.

    It was a conscious decision with the good wife (Princess No. 1) to simply spend time as a family, enjoy the lack of stress involved with packing and unpacking (with kids) and wake each morning treating the day as a new adventure.

    Also, when you have a four-month-old baby who sleeps less of a night than Keith Richards, then staying in a foreign environment is frankly not appealing.

    So instead, we’ve taken day trips to pools, parks, beaches and the Don River Railway (although Princess No. 2, three-year-old Ella, wouldn’t have her picture taken with the Thomas the Tank-looking train because it “doesn’t have a mouth yet, daddy. I’ll come back later when it has a mouth.”).

    One of the holiday highlights has been a dad and daughter trip to Henley-on-the-Mersey, Latrobe’s remarkable multi-faceted festival on Australia Day.

    Fair dinkum, there’s ferret races, woodchopping, helicopter rides, pony rides, cherry pip spitting comps – even Denise Drysdale.

    Stuff the ferrets though.

    All Ella wanted was a ride on the shuttle bus to and from the event – a legacy of singing “Wheels on the Bus” and the fact she’s never ridden on public transport (something she’ll no doubt make up for in her uni years).

    To Ella, the bus rides that day were akin to bungy jumping from the Sydney Harbour Bridge … that was until she saw kids eating strange pink fluffy wool-like stuff.

    We’d carefully avoided exposing Ella to the wonders of Fairy Floss, therefore naturally she was inquisitive. So, I told her the truth.

    “It’s called Fairy Floss, it makes you really sick if you eat it and mummies get REALLY grumpy with daddies if they find daughters have eaten it,” I said, using the most serious face.

    Note to Kel: As a trade off for my little fib, you get to tell her about the birds and the bees when the time comes. Sound fair?

    Other day trip destinations so far have included the awesome Launceston Aquatic Centre (get there if you haven’t been yet), the good ol’ Dinosaur Park at Ulverstone with adjacent safe beach and the kid-friendly Devonport Aquatic Centre.
    So what’s your best day trip destination? Have any secret spots you want to share?

  • Tasmanian princesses drink from same boob.. er, cup

    Tasmanian princesses drink from same boob.. er, cup

    Breast or bottle?

    TASMANIAN-born Crown Princess Mary may have not long given birth to twins, but this fellow Taswegian is more excited about giving life to her own li’l project – this blog (coincidentally, about my two beautiful princesses).

    We may have been born in the same State, but there’s more than a few differences between my life and the woman who’s living the storybook fairytale (or nightmare, depending on which magazine you read). Our differences? Mainly the money, maids … and manners!

    But what we do have in common, according to all reports, is boobie juice. As I read about Mary doing the football hold with her unnamed prince and princess, this most humbling thought makes me wonder what young Princess Isabella makes of it all.

    My “two girls” (read:  boobs) are a fascinating concept for my own Princess Ella, incidentally the same age as Isabella – three. My princess has decided breast isn’t best. Well, not for her ‘’baby’’.

    To begin with, Ella was mesmerized by me breastfeeding Baby Holly. The child carer did a double take after catching Ella sitting in the corner of the room, her top pulled up, chest puffed out, feeding a doll. Later, the same child carer asked her what mummy fed Baby Holly. Rather than the obvious – milk – she replied: ‘’her boobies’’.

    I asked her the same question again a few days later. ‘’Your big boobies,’’ was her reply. Hmm, heaven help me if that’s the answer she actually gave the child carer.

    The next instalment in the milk tanker saga, after numerous attempts to feed everyone from Jemima rag doll to Astra the Cabbage Patch Doll, was expressing. While I’ve got the Avent pumping like a dairy farmer at 6am, Ella has the kitchen gadget which seals corks back into wine bottles on her own boob. And she’s pumping like her life depends on it. After a few minutes, she stops and looks up disappointed. ‘’Oh no, mum, I mustn’t have any milk left’’.

    The look on her face is one akin to discovering the ice cream is all gone. She’s deflated. Well, not literally – she had nothing in there to start with. Since then, it’s been strictly a bottle for her Cabbage Patch.

    It just goes to show how much kids are influenced by what they see and hear (mental note: don’t use rude words when she decides to draw a Van Gogh on the suede lounge). So what sort of influences do you think Princess Isabella has? ‘’Pardon me maid, but would you mind ever so kindly as to pop those two dolls under my arms. It’s time to do the Buddy Franklin.’’

    OK, so, time to spill. What have you ‘’accidentally’’ taught your little cherubs?