The humorous side of life
By John Weldon
I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo - mum, if you’re reading this look away now - but there are a couple of things stopping me from converting thought into action. One, I think my arms are too hairy, and two I don...
Something has happened to our little girl. Our demure, blue-eyed Darcey has turned into the thing from the baby room; the thing that will not be thwarted; the thing that must satisfy its every whim - immediately! Without delay! Now, damn it, NOW!
I...
Our youngest daughter Grace – nearly four – is going through a bit of a butterfly stage. You only need mention the word butterfly and she will wander away to return a few minutes later in her fairy wings and pink party frock.
‘I am...
My mother and I are locked in grave discussion. It has nothing to do with teachers' strikes or the growing hole in the Ozone Layer. It has everything to do with my three-year-old's birthday cake. What on earth am I going to make him?
Birthday cakes...
My father likes to tell the story of how he snapped a kitchen knife in two, buttering toast as he waited for me to come into the world. This was in the days when men stayed at home reading Tractor News Weekly while their wives laboured alone in...
Here’s to alcohol, the solution to, and cause of, all of life’s problems… (with apologies to Homer Simpson)
By John Weldon
I’ve stopped drinking.
My wife the athlete is training for the Melbourne marathon and so in June she...
Well, yes I do want more of that wonderful stuff the kids make at school. As I write this, I’m looking at last year’s gifts: a bright blue cardboard tie and a desk tidy made out of an old soup can decorated with string and green...
‘Dad that looks disgusting! What is it?’
‘Risotto.’
That exchange was the straw that broke this camel’s back, along with other gems such as, ‘What is that stuff dad?’ said in reference to a, (rather nice if...
When our eldest, Rosie, was two, she asked, out of the blue, ‘Where do babies come from?’
My wife and I had discussed what we might do in that situation, thinking that we’d be honest with her and answer all her queries about life...
I’m sitting outside the operating theatre in a pair of white cotton overalls. I’m wearing a red-gauze cap on my head and dust covers on my shoes. The newspaper’s open in front of me.
If I was outside, you might think I was a...
Our youngest daughter Grace was christened a few weeks ago. The minister struggled to keep a grip on her while pouring water over her head. It was no surprise; Grace is nearly three years old and doesn’t take kindly to men in white smocks...
Has anyone been on the Tower of Terror at Dreamworld?
For those of you who haven’t, it’s a rocket ride that shoots straight up - 38 stories - in the blink of an eye. It uses enough power to light up a small town and the capsule you...
We've moved. After five years of paved courtyards and truck fumes we've moved to a suburb where the magpies carol and great carpets of grass stretch down the street. It’s only three kilometres from our old house, but it feels like a world away...
I’ll spare you the details about the birth except to say there were times when we didn’t know if we were all going to make it. I’ll skip the bit about the doctor’s early diagnosis of Darcey’s mysterious birthmarks and...
I know some of you turn to this page for a bit of a light-hearted read, but I’m not feeling all that slapstickish or boom-boomish today. Sorry. As a matter of fact I’m feeling a tad homicidal. I s’pose I should be more upbeat,...
My son Josh was only three when he became a walking thesaurus for the word ‘sleep’. That’s because he heard it said in so many delightful forms – not relating so much to him as to his mother. I’d say:
- Mum’s...
The biggest change in our playgroup over time is not that our babies have suddenly grown a metre in height or that they’ve morphed into Spidermen. It’s the conversation that’s changed.
Our conversation.
When we first got...
Mem’ries,
Like the corners of my mind
Misty water-coloured memories
Of the way we were…
Ah yes, misty water-coloured memories. The other day I asked my seven-year-old son Josh if he remembered anything at all about the home we rented...
Three o’clock in the morning and I’ve broken into a cold sweat. My heart is pumping. I’m feeling decidedly seedy. It can’t have been the garlic prawns at the country pub – and the two champagnes I quaffed were well...
Author Bruce Atherton writes about an 18 year journey to get his first children’s book The Billycart Ride published.
In the beginning there was a billycart and a very steep hill and some mad moments of misadventure. Then one day, many years...
Once upon a time I thought it would be nice to be a Dad but my great dream was to be a famous writer. I planned to win the Nobel Prize for Literature or at the very least share a beer with Tim Winton as we talked about our latest work.
And soon...
We’re headed for Queensland for a motor home holiday. My wife, Kate, has planned our trip with all the precision of a military operation - and somehow, Kate has packed most of our house into three suitcases and a pram.
“We need sleep NOW...
At the risk of offending my wonderful mother, I have to admit that my sex education was, er, lacking. At the age of 12, I was given a slim pink book with a perky ponytailed girl on the front. It was called You’re a Young Lady Now and gave the...
I often wonder how my stepsons will remember me when they are old and grey and reminiscing about their youth. I dream that it will be of a fine upstanding woman who offered them a different perspective on life. In reality I reckon they'll remember a...
Look, I originally planned to write something mildly hilarious about our dog Cooper. He’s really struggled with the fact that he’s no longer the dominant force in our family but to be honest, he should just get over it. I mean, give it a...
When I was little my mother gave me some simple advice on how to be an exemplary birthday-present recipient. The instructions were:
Always keep your eyes on the gift bearer’s face. Fight with every fibre of your being not to ogle the parcel...
A word of warning about car doors – specifically front-seat car doors. I’m not talking about back-seat car doors because every parent who has ever wrestled a child into the back seat knows how to work the angles without spilling a drop...
The other day I smacked my youngest daughter, Grace. She was wearing a nappy but it still shook her up – and me too. It’s not the first time I’ve smacked Grace but it’s probably the first time I have done so with a fervour...
By John Weldon
The children are growing up. And they’re losing their kiddie words even without realising it. I’m trying to remember them.
The four year-old is obsessed with superheroes, especially the yuckiest (most muscly) ones. The...
