Oh the Monday that your children have a school holiday!

You plan to wrestle the roses, for they have gone wild and messy with neglect, to give them some manure, and feed the lilies so they will bloom again, put some lime in the ground that needs it, fill the feeders for the hummingbirds, and go into the woodlands to market for the cupboards are bare.

You are in your hardiest gloves and muddy gum boots, rummaging in the shed for your large clippers.

“Mummy, may I have an old white sheet? Boy and I are going to paint a backdrop for the puppet show.”

“Of course.” But you will get it. You will find all your beddings muddled and unfolded if they rummage for themselves through your linen closet. Off with the gloves and boots.

A half hour later you are trying to find the large spade that was last seen hanging around under the front stairs.

“Oh, Mummy,” The little one comes flying out wearing a bat cape and nothing else. “Could you please make me those lovely cheese toasts? My tummy wants them.”

“Yes, certainly.” One must encourage good manners and proper nutrition.

Off with the gloves and gumboots again. This is going to be a long morning.

Having made enough lovely cheese toasts to feed a small army, you leave the heartened crowd chanting ants in your pants back in your kitchen and carry a bucket of topsoil down the beaten path, to make a handsome mound around your Princess Margaret and dig a little trench for manure.

The girl is beckoning wildly from the bathroom.

“There’s something wrong with the toilet. Everything’s coming up.”

You call Ernesto who will come right over.

“Pease Mummy will you give us something to make turbans out of?”

You toss your gloves and gum boots into the old well and shut the front door behind you. You often wonder how many children Job had.

Said the Australian Shepherd to his eight year old pixie boy:

“If you were worth a billion
What ever would you do?”

“I’d hire a mob of garden moles

And we’d bury bones for you.”

If you teach your children to be kind and gentle to animals, (and all living things), and if you reward the little pixies who stick to a job until it is finished, you needn’t worry about their characters.

You’ve paid the boy off to help you in the garden. With his allowance, the boy gets to go on shopping spree; he chooses fairy cakes for his sister and hot sweet potato wedges for everyone to share. He has his eyes on a couple of comic books but settles instead on a backscratcher for the lonely wizard that lives down the street.

At five o’ clock, Elf finds his Fairy sitting under the olive tree up at the top end of the garden.

“Fairy dear, what are you doing?”

“Dreaming of a chicken coop. Then we could have fresh eggs for tea.”

Never go shopping on a school holiday. You end up spending more money and forgetting the necessities.

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