Entries in kids (6)


Acting For Kids, 101. with Mo Flynn

I did a bit of acting this year.

Acting is when you pretend you're someone else. Not you, pretending to be someone else, but really pretend you aren't Mo any more and you're this other person.

I got to be a zombie cowboy, a crash test dummy and a kid. The last one was really hard! I'm kidding. Get it? Do you get it?

Acting is so much fun. You get to put on weird clothes and super ooky make up, there's usually pretty good food there too. Plus, money! I'm saving all my money. i did buy a piano but I need more money for something else... I don't know what, yet.


You have to learn your lines, and wait. There's a bit of waiting but you can usually play games on a tablet or a phone (if you're lucky).

I did this little short film with Mum's friend, Fiona (O'Loughlin). It was rad fun. Epic. We pretended to be mean to each other but she's really very nice. And she's got the fluffiest cat called, Mrs Fooks. I'm allergic to cats. I know this now.

Dictated to Mum, by Mo Flynn, age 5. x

Link to Rusty Fragment


Scott farted out a rainbow...

Scott farted out a rainbow...
Mo is 5 and he saw the picture.
Scott tried to explain himself.

Mo's reply, here.

There isn't a problem that can't be solved with stop animation.


Mo's Mum & Editor. xx



The saintliest of all children, Morrison Flynn enjoyed his very-late-pushed-back-by-comedy-festival-never-once-complained-about-it birthday party... yesterday. 25 days after the fact. 


We had done the dinner with Nana and Papa, cake and presents on the 1st, we're not total heathens. It was then he scored his new bike and all was right with the world. 

"It's red white and black, it's got a bell and goes really fast" in case you were wondering. It's had a few trips to the lake, one ride without brakes down a hill, in to a tree and countless rounds of the deck.

We're not allowed to ride in to the dog or over our brother, so you know. Normal as!

For the party, we went to a place that is just a decibel above parent-abuse, otherwise known as, an Indoor PlayCentre. If you've never been before, it's a place where adults absolve themselves of blame and kids absolve themselves of the laws of physics, and nature.

There's stuff to climb, heave, slide down, be pushed off, hide in and get carpet burn from. So that's what our dozen or more 4-8 year-olds did. As a parent or guardian, you stand on the bits that aren't spongy and drink coffee which is not spiked in any way shape or form and pretend to watch what's going on. Occasionally you can shout out, "Stop it!" and/or "Get off that/him/her!" What's not to love!?

Mo requested dark, dark, chocolate brownie cake. The PlayCentre provided ice-cream cake. I did not ask about allergies for my children do not have any therefore my care valve is less primed.

So, is there much of a change from 4yo to 5yo? Well, he's a school kid now. No kinder. No hanging out at home with Mum, bored out of his [sizeable] gourd.  Making LOTS of new friends in a class taught by the supremely wonderful, Miss Morrish.  The change from 4 to 5 means that THIS year, he can join Little Athletics. Come September, that's going to be a world of joy! 

Morrison is independent, joyous, confident, generous, beautiful and hirsute!

Thanks for helping us celebrate, Aiden, Angus, Linda, Lohia, Becca, Matthew, Clancy, Tild, Bodhi and Holly. Spike of course and we missed you Shoruya and Nathan. 

Happy birthday Mo Flynn, we couldn't love you more if you had a cool hard cash packed chewy cream centre

Lots of love, 

Mum, Daddy, Spike Rye and Orson Pup Chews-Everything Superstar. xxxx


class of '014!

Today was Morrison's first day of school. Ahem, I said, FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!

Holy moly! When did that happen!? (today, der brain - you just wrote it down!)

Off he went in his tiny pants, small shirt and large hat - heh. Didn't even bother to look up when we said, "Ok baby, we're going to go now."  Just a cheery, "Ok, see ya!"

There was Lego, his friends, lots of books and a sweet young *teacher there to take our place.

*(Miss Morrish is about 24 years old. Mo described her to Papa as, "Really old!" Serves her right for trying to usurp my position as most fabulous woman in his life!)

Shunned! We took my trauma... to the Coldstream Brewery and drank the ridiculousness of it all away.

When we picked him up, Daddy asked, "What did you do today, Mo?"

"I learnt to read."

So, that's taken care of.

We think tomorrow it's symbolic algebra and organic chemistry.

You gorgeous, adorable boy. We hope you're always as happy to go to school. We're so proud of you!

Mo's Mum and Dad and big brother Spike xoxox



Ick. Sick. Blech!

I was sick. I've decided I don't want to do that again.  From now on, I will just be well - like Sporticus! 

Phew!  Glad we got THAT sorted!

Poor MoMo. One Saturday afternoon he got half way through his lunch and said, "I don't want anymore, I don't feel well."  That should have been warning enough. HALF WAY THROUGH LUNCH... this is the kid that'll tell you he's hungry while he chomps on a mouthful of food.

"Let's give it 24 hours," we said. We did. He was still pretty flat. "Ok, let's see how he is in the morning..." He slept in our room, only occasionally throwing up, what was by this time, bile. Monday morning he woke up and smiled, "I feel much better!"  He went straight to the couch with his blanket and his cloth and stayed there. He didn't want brekky. "Later." He had maybe, a mouthful of cereal (which we saw again later). Soooo, I trepidatiously went to work. When I checked in a little after I got to the office and he was still sleeping. A little later on, still sleeping. Later - sleeping, refusing to eat or drink and he hadn't pee'd! He lied to us! He wasn't feeling better at all!

Back in the car, back home to gather an armful of tiny boy and off to hospital.


They walked us straight in. Took his temp, checked his obs. Took us straight back to pediatric triage. He saw a doctor within 10 minutes, in fact, the Doc beat the nurse in to the room to admit him. Vomiting, temps, lethargy, responsive but not engaged. He refused ice cream, Icy poles, fizzy. After much cajoling, he finally decided he might have "a warmed up icy pole."  The doctor bought back a partially thawed one in a cup of water. (heh I'll give him points for thinking outside the box.) Mo took half a sip and laid down again. "No, I don't want it."

They put Emla cream on his hands and I asked them to give him nitrous if they were going to put in an IV or take any bloods.  They did both. And they did give him the gas. He slept RIGHT through it. Didn't even open his eyes when the canula went in. SO utterly trauma free. The way ALL children should be handled in hospital.

Backstory - Mumma had just been in hospital the week before he got sick, with pneumonia (what else?!) so they xrayed his tiny chest too. It was clear. He'd lost 2 kilos in a very short amount of time (he likes to "measure" himself on the scales in our bathroom so we knew what he'd weighed last week) it became quite evident he was not going home that night. Or the next. Or, the next.


They took blood cultures, hung an IV, gave him some dextrose as his blood sugar was only 2 and started hitting him with IV antibiotics. Two lots. Every 4-6 hours. What ever was going on with him was going to have it's arse summarily kicked.

He just, slept. Didn't want to drink or eat. Just wanted to sleep.

Day three he started to pick up a bit. Apple juice was the drink he'd have. No to icecream (who's kid is this anyway!?) No to chocolate milk. No to icy poles and no to chocolate frogs. Again, I ask. Who's kid?

Sammy came in with some crayons and a book to draw in. And an Angry Birds hat. Tim and Cindy came in with the coolest array of balloons and WAY more importantly - a sandwich that I love so hard, I've asked to marry it from our favourite haunt on Brunswick St, Django Django (thanks Colin!).


Day 4 he started playing with the controls of the bed and he FINALLY stood up under his own steam. Woooo, gotcha some bed-head there Mister!

Day 5, during his Doctor's visit, he started showing off his Sporticus moves. Dr Nice grinned, I tell ya what. If he hasn't lost more weight, you can take him home."  I asked to be left alone with my child and a box of cornflour... He'd hung on by a thread. Home we go!

It sucks when your little ones are sick. It sucks extra hard if you have ANY medical knowledge whatsoever. Headaches aren't just headaches, they're aneurisms. Fevers and lethargy are very likely, the deadly meningococcal. A cough is inevitably, whooping cough! Never ever in any other avenue of my life am I SO glad to be wronger than wrong soup. :-)

We're home now. He went back to kinder today. We've managed to have some fun over the holidays - although given his subpar immunity, we've kept him away from the general germy public. The filthy unwashed masses.

Thanks to those darlings at Eastern Health. You were fabulous with my boy and even more fabulous with his over bearing, ever watchful, nurse's nightmare mother. I hope we NEVER see you guys again!


Onward and upward, eh?


Mo's Ma xxxxx