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Monday, April 7, 2014

F- is for Favourite. Do you have a favourite kid?

A to Z April Challenge

Take a good look at the face in the photograph above. 

This is a face that launched a thousand words… or roughly 200 000 if I’m being precise.

My son, Hagar the Horrible, was the impetus driving the commencement of the Pinky Poinker blog.

Despite bitter accusations by his brothers and sister, Hagar is not my favourite child. 

I must confess, like every mother I don’t have a favourite. Sure, sometimes I like one more than I like the others but it’s an interchangeable thing largely dependent on who happens to be giving me the least grief at the time.

I must admit I’ve always had a soft spot for little Hagar though. Arriving smack bang in the middle of five kids within six and a half years can’t have been easy.

I’d like to say it was a teenage thing with Hagar but from about the age of four he endeavoured to find trouble wherever he could.


And finally  Risking his life!    (Bonus fun video!)

… ah the list goes on and on.

But there hasn’t been too much written about young Hagar lately and the reason is he seems to have grown up a bit. 

After a shaky start; leaving in the middle of grade twelve then dropping out of his apprenticeship after only eighteen months, he’s now in his third year of a dual apprenticeship with even better prospects. He just informed me he’s been nominated again for Apprentice of the Year out of several hundred candidates.

It seems my boy is now a man.

A very sensible young man, who floored me this afternoon by handing over the money for his car registration which is due when he’s away overseas next week. Since when has Hagar thought past his next pay packet? 

I’m beginning to suspect a species of parasitic alien has invaded my son’s body.

When he first told me he was going to celebrate his forthcoming twenty-first birthday in Thailand, I panicked.

“So you want to kill your mother?” I screeched, harridan-style. 

“Don’t you know Thailand is officially the most dangerous destination for Aussie travellers! 

Do you want me to have a stroke worrying about you? 

Of all the places in the world you could have picked and you have to go there?


Anyway, as you can guess I lost that battle. No matter how many alarming printouts I left on his bed warning of the perils he might encounter he ignored me completely.

So… in the car on the way to dropping him at the airport this afternoon I armed myself with a plethora of travel advice and since he was trapped like a rat in a cage, he was forced to listen to my dire cautions.

“Don’t under any circumstances drink the water!” 
I implored. “And only drink from unopened bottles because your drink will get spiked. You like having two kidneys right?

If someone tries to sell you drugs in the street, RUN!

Don’t eat fish or meat… or salads… or ice. Don’t buy any food from street stalls.

You don’t want food poisoning. You know how you have sensitive bowels. Just eat McDonald’s for the week which should be safe enough.

Look out for pickpockets and fake policeman… and fake women. You can spot them a mile away, they have Adam’s Apples and nasal hair… the women, not the pickpockets.

Don’t walk alone at night and don’t go hiring any of those scooter things. Don’t go on any bikes or boats at all… or in any cars.

Have you bought medical insurance? WHAT????!!! Are you stupid?

Don’t go to one of those awful Full Moon parties or you’ll end up arrested and die alone in a Thai prison. 

Stay away from the elephants. No elephant riding on steep cliffs for you my boy!

Did I say don’t drink the water?

Okay. That’s it then.

Do you have your passport? Licence? Wallet? Phone?

Well… I suppose it’s goodbye… I hope I see you again… in one piece.

I love you darling Hagar… enjoy your birthday and have a wonderful time…even though your mother won’t be there to celebrate with you. 

Hope you don't miss me too much!"