Entries in Angus (2)


time capsules

On New Years Day, we (my brother Spike. Cousins, Tild and Angus and the girls next door, Mikayla and Ella) all came over to our house so we could put things in THREE different time capsules Daddy was going to bury in the yard.

Everyone bought over some special things. Dolls, rings, bits of Lego and funny toys. Daddy and Mummy interviewed us all - asking us questions about ourselves now and what we think we will be like in, 1, 5 and 10 years time. The little memory cards are in the time capsules now. We also included notes to ourselves in our own handwriting. We included art work and awards, from kinder and school. Photos of us being silly and being serious. Ok, there might have been one serious one. Kinda.

They're buried in the yard. Mum has got flag markers ready to go in so we don't forget where they are! That would be pretty silly wouldn't it?

So, we'll see you back here on January 1st, 2015. January 1st, 2019 and January 1st, 2024. I'll be 5 when dig the first one up. Then 9, then, 14!  Spike will be 8, 12 and then 17! Oh... Mum's got a funny look on her face now?  Must be wind. 

Mo Flynn (as dictated to, Mumma) xxoo


**Daddy points out Mumma will be 29, 30 & 32 Maths. It's a funny thing. x



Where have you been?

In the months between switching hosting companies for our websites and various petty yet persistent illnesses sweeping the family, Morrison has grown into what we can best describe as a, 45 yr old man with a temper.

Where did our baby go?!

Sure, he's a youthful looking 45yr old man who obviously, loves Vegemite. But man, can he turn?! Don't get in his way. Don't take something he wants and what ever you do, don't you dare try to redirect his attention away from the flaming pile of broken glass and poison. Look, you've been warned!

This kid of ours will never be pushed around. He's taken to head-butting things, with alarming force.  Reminiscent of that scene in Steve Martin's Parenthood where his youngest child puts a bucket over his head to go outside and headbutt trees. That sound you can hear is a surge of pride. Yes. Pride.


He's 11kgs of funny determination. I have to say, as stroppy as he can get, he's equally as loving. Hugs are doled out in this house like they're soon going out of fashion. Pounding noises and cries of, "ow!" are quickly followed by, "Aww" and "thanks, Mo Mo." He shadows his big brother without regard to his own limitations.  Spike has balance and coordination on his side. Morrison, bruises and carpet rash. Like all boys, he's mad for things with wheels, piles of mess and shoes.  Ok, that last one might just be him.

He's crazy in love with his cousin, baby Angus. And just quietly, the feeling seems mutual.


Such a perfect little bugger. He doesn't talk as much as Spike did (but really, aside from his mother, who does!?) but he sure understands what we say.  Nods of yes and no are precise and emphatic.  You better take notice! You know what you want.  We get it, Mo. He'd like to report he's well and truly feeding himself now. Oh fun. Oh Mumma's gorgeous sandblasted glass dining table... He'd probably live on Vegemite sandwiches, cruskits, yoghurt and chicken if we let him. He can not wait to get outside. Loves grabbing Papa's h and to go feed the chooks, roll in the grass and dig up the plants. He doesn't like his routine to be interupted. Which he let us know when his morning nap and Spike's Steam Train trip clashed.  Woo! Who's the grumpy little man in the nappy then?

We've done a survey and there's probably not a kid who is more ticklish, more determined or more perfect.

Take that, other crap kids!

Morrison's Equally Stroppy Mother xo